Carbonara is Roman. Specifically Roman. In fact it’s only as old as the second world war, when the resident American troops supplied locals with bacon and eggs. Trust the Romans to turn that into something special.
I’ve tried this dish many places in Rome, but it was time to seek out the very best. Trattoria Morgana had been on my list for years. I just don’t get to this part of the world as often as I’d like to. The Carbonara at Trattoria Morgana made me furious in a way only a truly great dish can. But we’ll get to that.
The interior of this place is as humble as it gets. Old dark wooden furniture, exposed brick arches, cheap tablecloths and wine on display for storage purposes rather than for show. Somewhere in Brooklyn would copy this and call it ‘kitsch’. The thought of this irritates me and begins to shroud my enjoyment of Morgana’s unostentatious interior design.
We begin wisely with Bruschetta. Pomodoro and Lardo.
Why is it so hard to find fucking Lardo everywhere but Italy?
Two feet behind me, I spot a restaurant worker ominously slicing Guanciale.
He slowly filled up deep trays of this ‘Packs More Punch Than Pancetta’ Pork until my anticipation grew the better of me.
How my date saw this and then ordered the Lasagna is beyond me.
In the end, the Lasagna was great, but my Carbonara was perfect. She immediately conceded.
A perfect selection of the best and freshest ingredients, prepared ‘al dente’ with sniper-like precision. I was furious. Somebody had to pay. In my head, it was the chef. In reality, it was me. About €12.
Via Mecenate, 21