When Luciano Pavarotti finished a performance at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City, he arrived home near midnight exhausted and ready to eat. He said singing an opera was like “going to die.” Fortunately, home-cooked meals could bring Luciano Pavarotti back to life. During the 1980s, his friend, Fred Plotkin who was the Metropolitan Opera’s Performance Manager, spent many evenings preparing just that for Il Maestro.
To celebrate carbonara week in quarantine, we interviewed Plotkin by phone at his mother’s New York City apartment to learn what it was like to cook with the world’s greatest tenor. Pavarotti’s carbonara recipe became the cornerstone of Plotkin’s cookbook on regional Italian cuisine, Authentic Pasta.
To celebrate carbonara week in quarantine, we interviewed Plotkin by phone at his New York City apartment, to learn what it was like to cook in the kitchen with the world’s greatest tenor, and how Pavarotti’s carbonara recipe became the cornerstone of his cookbook of regional Italian cuisine, Authentic Pasta.
Not a man of fancy taste, Pavarotti savored the rustic food of his hometown, Modena, Italy. Pavarotti found contentment in the simple vegetable recipes Plotkin prepared, like steamed fennel, broiled plum tomatoes, and sautéed peas with diced prosciutto.
Il Maestro’s residence, a spacious apartment with views of Central Park South, often smelled of simmering carrots, celery, and onions stewed in a capon broth. It was the elixir that restored a gift of the gods: Pavarotti’s voice
Plotkin’s cooking had to be swift and perfectly timed with Pavarotti’s appetite and showering routine–there was no need for elaborate recipes that would hold up a meal at one a.m. Il Maestro emerged, makeup removed, in tailored slacks and a silk shirt with his customary handkerchief that could cover his torso like a sheet.
They ate at a table in the kitchen with no background music, just conversation, drinking wine and munching through a main dish and a side vegetable, served on Richard Ginori porcelain plates. Plotkin remembers Pavarotti’s curiosity; he asked many questions about food preparation. When guests came over he always insisted on taking care of them.
It was il maestro’s suggestion that Plotkin writes a cookbook. He offered his carbonara recipe, knowing it would please the American palate and sell well. Pavarotti preferred Parmigiano cheese over the Roman version with pecorino, and true to the recipe title, which references coal, Pavarotti loved to blacken his pasta with an “abundant” amount of pepper.
Two weeks after their conversation, Plotkin got an offer out of the blue from Simon and Schuster, which led to Authentic Pasta (1985). Pavarotti always denied his involvement in arranging a publisher. On his deathbed, Plotkin thanked him once again for the cookbook. Pavarotti finally conceded. “Prego,” was all he said.
PAVAROTTI’S CARBONARA RECIPE
Ingredients:
1 to ¼ pounds of spaghetti (do not use thin spaghetti), or bucatini
2 tablespoons olive oil
6 tablespoons unsalted butter (Fred and Pavarotti used American Breakstone)
8 ounces pancetta (or bacon), cut in cubes
5 eggs
Pinch of salt
Pinch of freshly ground black pepper
¾ cup grated Parmigiano (or pecorino)
Method:
Set a large pot of cold water to boil. When it reaches a rolling boil, toss in a pinch of salt. Start cooking the spaghetti.
In the meantime, heat the oil and gently melt the butter in a pan and add the pancetta. Sauté until it turns a dark pink or light red. However, it should remain soft rather than turn crisp.
While the bacon is cooking, beat the eggs, salt, pepper and two tablespoons of grated cheese in the dish you will use as a serving bowl. When the spaghetti are al dente, drain thoroughly and add eggs to the mixture. Toss quickly and well, top with the pancetta, (and if you wish some of the pan liquid), and toss again. Serve right away with additional cheese.
Wine: Frascati, Bianco dei Castelli Romani, Bianco dei Colli Albani
Note: Plotkin, America’s foremost operavore, recommends the intimate experience of streaming the Metropolitan Opera’s April program with home-cooked pasta, but cautions against dining and watching all at once as it may overload the senses. Read the opera synopsis first, eat pasta, then sip espresso and watch. “The most important thing to remember,” he says, “opera is told in the music and not in the words.”)