... but he probably has better taste. Dinner was supposed to be Ruth Reichl's spaghetti carbonara. (I don't mean to drag this venerable author's name into this fiasco, though, so I must state that any resemblance between actual events or meals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.)
There were many factors which contributed to the unpalatability of this dish: pre-grated supermarket Parmesan, and my inability to properly cook the subpar bacon I bought (Reichl specifies "good-quality") - I wasn't sure what the right temperature for frying was, and the bacon fat started sticking to the bottom of the skillet - it never got very liquid. But the main problem, obviously, was the eggs. Instead of producing the rich, creamy sauce that the recipe promised, they immediately turned into tiny scrambled curds.
"Hey, I don't really like creamy sauces anyway," my husband offered charitably.
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