On Sunrises + Rib Roast Carbonara
Parenting is different, not difficult; carbonara is just as good with beef ribs
Happy New Year, to those who celebrate. Those of you who read the footnotes know that one of my (two) New Year’s Resolutions is to watch the sun rise every morning in January (and, ideally, do it barefoot)1. I regret to inform you all that, one week into 2024, I’ve only accomplished that goal two of the four mornings2.
That isn’t to say this is due to lack of ability — the sun itself not rising until well after 7:00am here in New England — nor of effort. Instead, my plans — as the best laid ones, of both mice and men, often do — have been set awry. The blame for me being unable to fully synchronize my circadian rhythm falls squarely on Kiddo CWD’s shoulders.
I often tell people that having kids, being a parent, isn’t necessarily harder than being childless, but, it is, without a doubt, different. Without kids, resolving yourself to see the sun crest the horizon each morning simply requires a working alarm clock and a little bit of discipline3. Without kids, you can set an alarm for 7:10am, roll out of bed, open up the back door, and still have a few minutes to rub the sleep from your eyes before Helios has even gotten into his chariot.
The same basic parameters apply with kids. Theoretically, one could set his alarm for the reasonable hour of 5:25am, get a work out in, come upstairs and prep for the day, and then be there to greet his smiling daughter as she wakes up at 6:45am on the nose4. From there, one might even get said daughter up and dressed for the day, fed a hearty breakfast, and one might even be able to invite her to watch the sun rise with him5. This isn’t harder, but it’s different.
Of course, the aforementioned scenario would require a child who plays by the rules of normalcy; it would require a child who doesn’t contract hand-foot-and-mouth disease6 on December 29th, and subsequently insist on sleeping in her parents’ bed for the five of the next six nights. When that happens, one might find himself unable to get out of bed prior to his daughter, for fear of waking her and inducing a round of inconsolable wailing — which would, of course, wake the rest of the house: wife, dog, and Warthog7. That would yield a frenetic start to the morning, one which a discerning person might wish to avoid.
Now, under normal circumstances, none of these hypotheticals would get in the way of one trying to catch some low-angled sunlight. However, when one’s daughter (who, as we previously mentioned is predisposed to awake at 6:45am), due to a series of restless nights and lingering pain, fails to wake at her typical hour, and instead sleeps until well past 7:30am — well, then getting up and outside to see the sun gets awfully difficult8.
All of that is to say, I missed seeing the sunrise on January 1st and I missed it again on January 3rd9. I don’t really need to apologize to anyone but myself for this, but I suppose I can re-resolve myself to do better for the rest of the month10. Consider this post a doubling down11.
You probably came here, though, for food, not ramblings on sunrises written in the hypothetical. So, to celebrate the start of a new year, let’s make something a little indulgent.
I’ve written before12 about my love affair with pasta carbonara. We’re making a version of that today, except in lieu of using bacon as the fatty meat, we’re going to use the leftover trimmings from our Christmas rib roast13. This is the meat I trimmed off the ribs themselves, not quite enough for a meal on their own, but perfect to augment pasta, cheese, and egg.
I’ve done the same preparation with the belly from the lamb we roasted over the summer and with several other fattier cuts of meat. Don’t let convention get you locked up!
Let’s make it happen.
Bring a large pot of water, well salted, to a boil. When it’s ripping, add in a pound of pasta, whatever you’re feeling and have on hand. Cook until al dente, drain, and set aside. Meanwhile, heat a large, high-walled skillet to medium-hot. Dice up a bunch of beef rib meat14, leftover from the rib roast you made earlier in the week. Add this to the pan, heating until the fat is rendered and the meat is crispy. As the meat cooks, mix in a small bowl one egg plus an egg yolk, a boatload of Parmegiano Reggiano cheese, and some black pepper.
When the pasta is finished and the meat fully rendered, add the pasta to the pan with the meat and rendered fat. Mix thoroughly. Plate your individual portions, and then spoon in the cheese/egg mixture, stirring well until it coats the noodles uniformally.
Enjoy with plenty of extra parm cheese.
There you have it, folks. A riff on pasta carbonara.
I don’t have much else for you this weekend. May it be restful, enriching, and fulfilling. Try, like me, to get outside early. Even if it’s snowing, even if it’s cold. Try not to let yourself get too caught up in what’s already happened — but look forward to what is happening now, what’s to come.
We’ll see you here next week.
The other being to mark down in a small pocket calendar each day I finish a book, hunt, or fish.
As the sun has not yet risen by the time this dispatch goes to post, I can’t take credit that it is three of five.
As Jocko Willink often says, the best way to train yourself to get up early is to get up early.
One’s more languid son might even sleep until 7:30am or later.
Though she probably would insist on being held so as not to get her feetsies cold.
Hand-foot-and-mouth is not to be confused with hoof-and-mouth disease, which is a severe viral infection in animals with divided hooves (cows, goats, sheep, deer); it is an entirely different virus from that which causes hand-foot-and-mouth.
And if one’s wife were to wake up earlier than she’d have hoped — especially if she didn’t get a good night sleep for any of the previous half-dozen nights — one might find himself the subject of her ire and lingering exhaustion.
Not that I know anything about that.
This difficulty is compounded by the fact that one’s daughter might like to sleep directly on top of her father all night, kicking her legs violently, pushing away arms and pillows, and insisting on pushing her father all the way to very edges of the bed — which, of course, is already occupied at the foot by one’s dog, who also likes to press as close to her master as possible.
At this point, one might think it may be time to consider a larger bed, but then one realizes that one already sleeps in a bed which is king-sized.
We had a slight reprieve the night of January 1, where Kiddo slept the entire night in her own bed, but she was right back with us the following night. Fortunately, she’s seemed to have made a full recovery at this point and slept contently on her own the night of the 3rd.
(Writing this on the 4th, I don’t want to jinx myself by promising any more than we’ve already had.)
Or, I could be like the oyster and just let be what is to be.
Hi-diddly-dee, goddamn, it’s an early riser’s life for me.
Thanks to Pursuit Farms for once again hooking us up with an indulgent Wagyu x Angus roast. Next year please remind me that I only need two ribs!
As mentioned before, any relatively fatty cut will work here.
Don't be so hard on yourself regarding those New Year's resolutions. No one is ever expected to really adhere to them. There's next year.
Love the recipe. I just don't understand why everything in your photos looks so much different (aka better, more tasty, more... just more EVERYTHING) than when I make it. The other night I invited someone over for dinner with the lure of my homemade chocolate cake, but had to put in the disclaimer that half the time I make it, it's a disaster.
I love you. Here's to each new day, whether we follow the plan or not.
That is not reassuring.