Fettuccine Tales: Fettuccine Saves The Day!

Fettuccine: a rich, creamy Italian pasta dish, served with a heaping side of memories.

Ingredients: fettuccine pasta, cream (I use half and half), milk, Parmesan cheese, butter, garlic or garlic powder, flour, sauteed mushrooms (sliced), cooked bacon, salt and pepper to taste.

It's been raining here off and on for days, if not weeks. In fact, I would not be surprised if this turned out to be our wettest May on record. On this day, the weather radar online showed little spots of green everywhere. It would be sunny a while, then rain, then sunny, then rain.

My husband and I sat on the front porch, plotting our day. He wanted to jog in the Scotia Barrens, via Tow Hill. I wanted to visit my pond, via bike, and stop in to visit the pink ladies of the Barrens, which is to say, the lady's slipper orchids. 

It was still raining, and we were waiting for a break. The online radar seemed to show that more rain was coming. My husband said he didn't mind running in the rain. I told him I thought I could make it to my pond on my bike before the next set of showers arrived; I'd take my umbrella along, and walk in the rain, and take pictures of the rain patterns on my pond. 

I'd hope for a break in the rain for the return bike trip home, which is all fast, and downhill. Or maybe I'd try riding my bike under my umbrella, if need be; this is a thing I've never tried, but thought about. Logistically, it works, but barely: one hand to hold the umbrella, one hand to manage the bike.

But as it turns out, none of that needed to happen. The rain cleared out, and we both managed to get our exercise in relative dryness. I walked in the Barrens, with my umbrella handy, but did not need it. The raindrops I wanted to photograph on my pond never materialized. The ponds are huge, with all of the rain, and the pink ladies are starting to say farewell. There were still some nice lady's slippers, but many of the orchids are turning brown, going to seed.

We got home, weathered some more come-and-go showers. When they finally moved out, my husband wanted to take his old car (a 1997 Geo Prizm) for a spin. He is fussy about this classic car; only drives it in decent weather. So we went for an hour's drive on backroads, admired the cloud show, saw the sights, ended up with about five drops of rain on the windshield.

The rain was seriously clearing out and it was breezy by the time we got back. With all of the recent rain, everything in the yard is tall and green. Time for mowing! So my husband mowed and I raked. We decrease the amount of yard that gets mowed each year. We are letting some things grow wild.

By the time we were done with all of that, it was 6 p.m., and I practically crawled up the front steps. I was exhausted and starving, but the night before, I'd come up with a plan. I had all of the ingredients I needed for fettuccine. "Are you starting on that fettuccine yet?" my husband asked, as he came in the front door, covered in grass from mowing.

And so it was that I made us a very nice Saturday night meal of fettuccine carbonara, with bacon and mushrooms and cream and cheeses and butter. It is based on the Olive Garden recipe that you can find here; I followed it pretty much exactly, though I halved it and added mushrooms and bacon.  

Now, this is a dish I used to make often back in what I call "the old days." I used to live in a little house near Lederer Park in State College. I lived there with a big orange cat named Gremlin. I was working at Penn State, and dating a gorgeous guy who lived in Philipsburg, then Altoona. We had separate households back then, and once every couple of weeks, when it was just the cat and me for an evening, I'd make us a nice round of fettuccine carbonara.

I got the idea from my good friend Ellen, who loved to cook. She made a very nice fettuccine, but she usually made the standard kind. And she did a mean thing (or at least I thought so): sometimes she put PEAS in it. Oh YUCK! There will NEVER be ANY peas in my fettuccine.

On Monday nights, a restaurant downtown used to serve an all-you-can-eat pasta. You could choose your type of pasta and your sauce, and Ellen and I would go there. You could park for free at the parking garage across the street and get your tag validated at the restaurant. Yes, a sweet deal. Better yet, the food was fantastic!

That was the ONLY place in the world I ever remember being able to get the real fettuccine carbonara. That restaurant was called Ferrara's of Little Italy, and of course, they are gone now. And so is Ellen, my partner in crime. But the fettuccine remains!

Anyway, back in "the old days," I'd make the bacon; I can't remember if I made a half pound or a whole pound; you make the bacon slightly less crispy/crunchy if you're putting it in pasta. Bacon really does make everything better, even pasta. (Even chicken soup! I like my chicken soup with a slice of melted cheese in it and topped with a wee bit of bacon. Follow me for more cooking tips! But I digress.)

Also, I'd buy my mushrooms, whole, at the Penn State Creamery, for two dollars a pound. They were beautiful, white, button mushrooms, pure and creamy and good. I'd slice them up and sautee them in butter and the cat and I would eat those wonderful mushrooms until he puked. Okay, so maybe we overindulged, just a bit. Was I a bad cat-mom? I hope not. We ALL looked forward to fettuccine night!

It isn't that hard to make fettuccine alfredo, and it doesn't take long, especially if your bacon is already cooked and your mushrooms are from a jar and your garlic is garlic powder instead of an actual garlic clove. I was also making just a half-batch, which involves somewhat less fussing. I started my water boiling, and I broke my fettuccine in half, dropped it in.

Then I got a big pan on the stove and I melted my butter and I added my garlic powder, and my flour, and my half and half, and my milk, and my Parmesan cheese. I tossed in the bacon bits, all crumbled up tiny, and I let it all simmer. I like my pasta a bit softer than "al dente" so I let it cook for about 15 minutes, then drained the water and tossed the pasta in, then added the sliced mushrooms. 

Here is the result of my efforts: a very nice Saturday night fettuccine treat! Those lighter brown, bigger pieces are mushrooms. The tinier, darker brown pieces are bacon. That's my wooden spoon, top right, used for stirring.

I made about half the Olive Garden recipe for sauce, half a box of pasta. It made us about four decent servings of fettuccine carbonara. We each enjoyed one right then, and I put two away for later, one for the fridge and one for the freezer, neatly labeled with contents and date.

Let me tell you right here that I am a member of team "the pasta always tastes better the second time around." I love fresh pasta, but I think it tastes even better the next day, when the cream and the sauce and the cheese and bacon and mushrooms and stuff all get all mixed together. 

Actually, the pasta tastes even better later the same NIGHT, as I discovered around 10:30, when I got a bit peckish, and had a second serving of fettuccine for dessert! Yes, I did, I did! Fettuccine was our main dish for dinner, and fettuccine was my late-night snack! :-) 

My husband was watching somebody named "the Ant" play basketball on TV in the living room. I was watching The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring on videotape (yes, video!) in the bedroom. As it turns out, "One does not simply walk into Mordor," but one CAN enjoy a very nice fettuccine while watching OTHERS walk into Mordor. :-)

I hope you had a good day. I hope you accomplished something useful. I hope you got some fresh air and some exercise, and spent some time with someone you love, who also loves you. 

I hope you watched something fun by way of entertainment. I hope you ate something delicious. I hope you got to take some pretty pictures. I hope it was a day you want to remember, and not one you want to forget.

Our soundtrack tune is from The Lost Boys soundtrack; here are INXS and Jimmy Barnes, with Good Times.