Page 110 of Only Mine
I squint at the ingredients like they’ll tell me their secrets. “Cook it?”
“Brilliant. In what?”
“Oil?”
His jaw ticks. “Pancetta renders its own fat.”
“Right. That.”
“So I put it in the pan...”
“Yes?”
“When?” he asks.
“Now?”
“Is the pan hot?”
“I don’t know, you’re the one cooking!”
“You’re the director.” His patience is fraying beautifully. “Should I heat the pan first?”
“Obviously.”
“Obviously.” He turns on the burner with more force than necessary. “And while that’s heating?”
“You ... wait?”
A vein in his temple throbs. “Or I could prep the?—”
“Pasta! You prep the pasta.”
“By?” He draws out the word.
“Putting it in water?”
“What kind of water?”
“The wet kind?”
“Wrenley.”
“Boiling! Boiling water. I knew that.”
“Did you?” He’s gripping the counter’s edge and trying not to lose it.Oh,I love this so much. “And when do I add the eggs to the pasta?”
“After it’s cooked?”
“Temperature?”
“Hot?”
“No. Christ, no.” He abandons all pretense of letting me direct. “You add the eggs off heat, or they scramble. The residual warmth cooks them gently. You temper them with pasta water first. You?—”
“Just make the damn carbonara.” I laugh.
“You think?”
