Comparing Oishinbo's "Japanese-Style Carbonara" with the Authentic Version: Ryuji's Dish Made with Quick Pancetta and Pecorino

Ryuji listed the following as differences from the authentic version. Carbonara doesn't contain butter. It uses guanciale, salt-cured pork cheek, not bacon. It doesn't use heavy cream either. Authentic carbonara is made with guanciale, egg, and cheese, and it's also odd that the manga says "Parmesan cheese," Ryuji pointed out.

Even so, they don't think this method tastes bad. According to Ryuji, this is American-style carbonara. If you make it with only egg, cheese, guanciale, and black pepper, the egg tends to turn grainy, so it takes a lot of skill. Adding heavy cream keeps the egg from setting, which makes it easy to make, and that's why this method spread. As Ryuji explains it, around 30 years ago the only carbonara in Japan was the kind with cream; later, Italian culture came in, people learned that "in Italy they don't put cream in it," and carbonara made with just egg and cheese became available everywhere. Ryuji speculates that the original author, Mr. Kariya, probably wrote it around that time and so assumed this was the standard. The issue being raised this time, however, is that the manga calls it "authentic" and "the real thing," even though what's described is different.

For the Japanese style, Ryuji used the chewy 1.8 mm pasta they normally use, bacon, butter, eggs, heavy cream with 35% milk fat, and Parmesan cheese. Since the manga doesn't give detailed quantities, the approach was to include every step it describes. Ryuji personally thinks it tastes better with consommé, but didn't add any here, since Mr. Kariya would probably get angry.

They used about 60 g of bacon per serving, because with too much, all you taste is bacon. Bacon itself has umami, but store-bought bacon contains chemical seasonings, so if you served it in the world of Oishinbo you'd probably get scolded, Ryuji joked. They also noted that bacon is American, and that in Italy there aren't many pastas that use bacon. Once heavy cream goes in, it becomes something like Alfredo sauce, a completely different thing from the Italian style, they said.

Asked about the origins of the Japanese style, Ryuji answered that the combination of heavy cream and bacon was probably brought over from America. The reasons they gave: Japan has been heavily influenced by America in terms of food culture; Italian cuisine's influence hasn't been that large; what first became popular in Japan was basically French; and using cream is part of yoshoku (Japanese-style Western cooking) culture. It also came up here that the carbonara at old-fashioned kissaten coffee shops all uses cream.

Ryuji also mentioned that the staff had prepared garlic during the shoot. Ryuji's response was that garlic doesn't go into carbonara, and it isn't needed because the umami comes from the cheese.

About 20 g of butter for two servings. Only the yolks of two eggs are used. Adding the whites dilutes the richness of the cream, and egg whites have a slightly harsh taste, they said. The heavy cream is 100 cc, at 50 cc per serving. Carbonara isn't good unless the egg flavor comes through clearly, Ryuji says. When mixed, it becomes an orange-colored cream, and since it's only yolks, it doesn't form clumps or set when heated.

Ryuji also said that if you don't use umami seasoning, the only way to get umami is to draw it out of the bacon. Asked whether Mr. Kariya knows that bacon contains chemical seasonings, they answered that they think he has in mind something like additive-free bacon, but they don't really know. Ryuji also offered the view that many restaurants making Japanese-style carbonara add stock such as chicken consommé, because Japanese people like umami.

Partway through, Ryuji touched on the response to an earlier video testing peperoncino. They had expected knowledgeable people to show up with recipes saying the authentic method tastes even better, but hardly anyone did. On the other hand, some people pointed out that the olive oil and chili peppers used wouldn't taste good if they were Japanese ones, which Ryuji thought was a fair point, so they said they're planning a "5,000-yen peperoncino" video made entirely with imported ingredients. They laughed, wondering what they'd do if that didn't taste good either.

The pasta for the Japanese style was boiled in water with 1% salt. In the explanation of the authentic version, though, salt comes up again and again. Many carbonara restaurants in Rome use Pecorino Romano, and some use only Parmigiano Reggiano, they said. Ryuji used to use Pecorino Romano from Zanetti.

Ryuji recalls eating carbonara at two or so different restaurants in Italy, and that they were salty and not good. The cause was the high salt content of Pecorino Romano; guanciale is also salt-cured, so it's like eating a lump of salt. That's why, when you make it at home, it won't taste good unless you lower the salt concentration of the boiling water, in Ryuji's view.

As for the pasta, prefacing it with "people say to use authentic spaghetti, but...," Ryuji named De Cecco. It's a bronze-die dried pasta, available at supermarkets, and gives an authentic feel. Chef Kawagoe used it too, Ryuji said.

This episode was done under a rule of no chemical seasonings. The staff told Ryuji, "But then it won't be Oishinbo anymore," and Ryuji went along with it. They figured it would be fine, since sprinkling on cheese adds a mass of umami.

In response to comments that the Japanese style looks heavy, Ryuji explained that authentic carbonara is just egg and cheese, so it's actually light by nature. The fat from the guanciale does hit you pretty hard, though, so it is rich. When they were young, they were extremely particular, always keeping Pecorino Romano in the fridge, to the point of thinking they couldn't forgive people who added Ajinomoto. Now they're called "the Ajinomoto guy"; you never know what life will bring, they said self-deprecatingly.

Three and a half minutes before the pasta is done, the egg mixture goes into the frying pan. If it sets, it clumps, so the heat is turned off and it's warmed gently to thicken it. No pasta water is added, because there's already liquid, and adding it would thin the cream. Since it contains egg yolk, it thickens when heated.

The restaurant where Ryuji used to work also served Japanese-style carbonara like this, they said. Ryuji thinks this method may have been adopted because at a busy Italian restaurant it's hard to get the egg perfectly soft every time. They also noted that nearly all store-bought pasta sauces are Japanese style, and since raw egg can't be used in retort pouches to begin with, it's impossible to recreate authentic carbonara with a pasta sauce.

The pasta was tossed, seasoned with a pinch of salt, and finished with Parmesan cheese and black pepper. Ryuji added that Parmesan is also American, and in Italy only Parmigiano Reggiano is used.

The tasters' reactions were "delicious" and "rich." Ryuji also rated it as good, said they really liked it, and called it classic style. On the other hand, they said that if you eat the parts without cheese or bacon, people used to their recipes would find it a bit lacking in umami. A staff member said Ryuji's usual carbonara tastes better, but this is good in its own way. Other comments were that despite having butter, cream, and cheese, it doesn't feel heavy and seems light; that eating a plate on its own leaves you a little unsatisfied; and that it's like pasta eaten together with bacon.

So they "reinforced" it with three shakes of Ajinomoto, and the tasters said this version was better. Umami really is important, Ryuji said. There was also a comment that the cheese might be a bit too heavy.

For the authentic version, Ryuji made a simple pancetta, in other words salted pork, as a substitute for guanciale. Since pork cheek wasn't available, they used a block of pork belly with plenty of fat. The fat is what tastes good, so fattier cuts are better, they said.

Salt equal to 3% of the weight is rubbed in. This time the pork was 271 g, so that came to about 8 g, which looks like a lot. Real pancetta needs long aging, but salted pork doesn't require that much, and if it's a hassle you can just buy store-bought pancetta, Ryuji says. Some people use spices like thyme or rosemary that soften the porky smell, but this time they used only black pepper.

It's placed so air can circulate underneath, and left uncovered in the fridge for three days. It's rough in terms of hygiene, but with this much salt it won't spoil, Ryuji explained. It's left unwrapped so the moisture keeps drawing out and the pork's flavor concentrates. They also said a pot-au-feu made with this dried pork is the best thing in the world.

After one night it loses moisture and becomes quite firm, but ideally you should let it rest in the fridge for three days, up to about a week at most, and then store it in something like a Ziploc bag. What was used this time was about two weeks old, further aged and changed in color, and Ryuji says it's fine for about a month. However, they stressed that after several weeks it may start to smell off, in which case don't eat it, and that it's at your own risk. They consider the fat content to be about the same as guanciale, and once it has become firm like ham, it's cut into thin strips for use.

The cheese is grated Pecorino Romano. Some chefs use Parmigiano Reggiano, and both were prepared this time, but Ryuji personally finds Pecorino Romano tastes better. It is very salty, though, so the amount needs careful thought. The guideline is 20–25 g per person, and in the end it came to about 50 g for two servings.

There are many schools of thought on the egg ratio, but Ryuji said they ultimately settled on two patterns: "one whole egg" or "whole egg + yolk." The latter is for when you want a silky sauce, and this time they made the carbonara mixture with two whole eggs and two yolks, mixed with the cheese.

There was also a moment when Ryuji told a staff member, who used to casually eat Ryuji's carbonara, that back then they grated this cheese every time and sourcing it was a lot of work.

The pasta is De Cecco, and this is the first time bronze-die pasta has been used on the channel, they said. Its surface is rough, which contributes to the flavor, but it releases a lot of starch, so it turns out badly in one-pan pasta. That's why Ryuji usually recommends Teflon-die pasta. The amount is 100 g per person for two servings, and a thicker pasta was chosen so it wouldn't be overpowered by the umami of the cheese and salted pork.

The boiling water's salt concentration is 0.7%. Since Pecorino goes in, it really can be light; salt can be added later; and Ryuji has failed many times at this step, they said. Against a 12-minute cooking time on the package, the pasta is pulled at 10 minutes and finished in the frying pan.

One and a half tablespoons of olive oil go into the frying pan, and the salted pork is fried until crispy. No butter is used. That said, some chefs do use butter, and even in Italy it varies from person to person, Ryuji added. Bacon has a lot of moisture so it spatters when fried, but salted pork has had its moisture drawn out, so it doesn't spatter and turns out crispy. All of the rendered fat is used.

Ryuji said this is better than the authentic versions, then added that "authentic" varies from restaurant to restaurant, just as in Japan there are good restaurants and not-so-good ones.

At this point, about 80 cc of hot water, not pasta water, is added. The salted pork, at 3% salt, is already salty, so adding pasta water would make it too salty. It may be unorthodox, but it can't be helped if you want it to taste good, they said. As it reduces, the pork's flavor dissolves into a cloudy white broth, which then coats the pasta. Ryuji also said that since authentic carbonara is salty at many restaurants, they kept the saltiness restrained this time.

As for umami seasoning, they said it would make it a little better, but they weren't using it this time. If the ingredients are good enough, umami seasoning isn't needed. But making it only with Japanese ingredients an ordinary person can buy at the supermarket is tough, so in everyday cooking the key is to use umami seasoning well—that's Ryuji's position.

Once the pasta has been tossed with the fat and broth, the heat is turned off and the egg mixture is added. This is the most important step, they said. The heat is brought back to low, and the egg is cooked so that it doesn't set but doesn't stay raw either. If it stays raw, you get pasta like tamago kake gohan (raw egg over rice); if it's overcooked, you get grainy scrambled eggs. You stir the bottom of the pan and stop just before that point.

When it works, the sauce isn't runny but turns thick and creamy, clinging to every single strand. This is what makes it good, this is really important, Ryuji repeated. It's plated, topped generously with coarsely ground black pepper, and finished with a sprinkle of Pecorino Romano. Ryuji introduced it as the "ultimate carbonara" they had arrived at when they were young, and urged people to eat it right away, since carbonara is at its best only for about three minutes after it's done.

Everyone who tasted it said "delicious" in unison, and they also agreed that chemical seasoning wasn't needed. The saltiness is just right because hot water was used; with pasta water it would be too salty; it was all calculated, Ryuji explained. They also said it wouldn't turn out like this unless the cheese is Pecorino Romano, and it wouldn't turn out like this without the salted pork. The peperoncino test was so-so, but the carbonara is good, Ryuji said with satisfaction.

Asked about the key to the tossing step, Ryuji showed that no sauce was left on the plate. If you fail, sauce is left behind. Unless the egg is at that perfect soft stage where it coats every single strand, carbonara won't be good at all, they said.

Ryuji said that if you go this far, you get a dish good enough to go to a restaurant just to eat it, and since it can be made with supermarket pork, everyone can make it. If you want to make truly delicious carbonara without chemical seasonings, this is the definitive version, they said. But they also revealed that they hadn't put out this method until now because they didn't want to ask viewers to get Pecorino Romano or make salted pork. The video closed by encouraging viewers to try Oishinbo's Japanese-style carbonara if they get the chance, and, if they can take the time, this "best carbonara of my life" as well.