(ran ST edition) Maybe all Italian food qualifies as comfort food _ the good stuff that warms the spirit as it nourishes the body _ so you'll probably think I'm as nutty as pignoli to stand up and declare spaghetti alla carbonara the ultimate Italian comfort food. But I've investigated this metaphysical realm thoroughly _ Italian food and the soul, especially the food part _ and that's my conclusion: Once you've experienced spaghetti alla carbonara, it's hard to find as much comfort in anything else. Carbonara is a rich dish made from simple ingredients _ eggs, butter and/or olive oil, cheese, bacon _ and, once these elements become entangled with hot pasta, they touch the deep senses and take the chill out of bones. When I inhale a freshly cooked carbonara, I feel as though I've returned to some steamy-warm, ancestral kitchen on a little farm in the Roman countryside. Maybe I take comfort from this dish because it blends a staple of my Italian ancestors _ spaghetti _ with a staple of America _ bacon and eggs. In fact, it could be the Ultimate Italian-American Dish. I'm not the first to proffer this concept. In 1983, Calvin Trillin, author of Third Helpings and Alice, Let's Eat, felt such passion for spaghetti alla carbonara that he crusaded to have it replace turkey as the national dish on Thanksgiving Day. Consider what some historians accept as the origin of carbonara: In the waning days of World War II, American soldiers in Rome made nice with local families, gave them fresh eggs and bacon and asked them to prepare meals. The locals added the pasta and grated cheese, thereby either inventing a dish or reviving one that previously had had little exposure among Americans. Others believe the dish is much older than that, cooked on open fires by charcoalmakers, thus its name. I've also heard the theory that crispy, carbon-black bacon is what gives the dish its flavor and name. Whatever its origins _ some say it is unmistakably Roman, others say it originated in the Lazio region _ spaghetti alla carbonara is a wonderful treat for a winter lunch or supper. It offers a welcome break from the tiresome tomato sauces that coat most other popular Italian dishes. But, I know: It sounds evil, not comforting. My God, bacon and eggs with parmigiano and pasta? Yes, and maybe a little butter. And maybe a little cream! And some use olive oil. I've heard it called an "Italian heart attack on a plate." But come on, now. Tutto in moderazione: all in moderation. So, I make carbonara about twice a year. Reader mail pours in from carbonara fanciers. All agree with my praise for the dish and its comforting qualities. But there was little agreement on the method of preparation and fair divergence on ingredients. Elia Mannetta, an old friend and former short-order chef from Baltimore's Little Italy, first made the dish for me 25 years ago, and he has seen it prepared many times in households in Big Italy. He makes it with American smoked bacon and mixes it in a large skillet. I prefer a drier, more granular finish to the dish. That's why I always follow Elia's method, but with an important variation prescribed by Elizabeth David in her classic Italian Food. I pour the beaten eggs into the hot skillet just seconds before adding the spaghetti. I remove the skillet from the heat and toss the mixture, adding the cheese. The eggs and cheese cling nicely to the hot noodles, and the finish is anything but creamy. I serve the carbonara right off the stove. Father Joe's Spaghetti Alla Carbonara Olive oil for frying { pound pancetta, sliced at the deli like bacon, then cut into small slivers (see note) 3 eggs { cup half-and-half \ pound butter 1 pound spaghetti cup grated Romano cheese Freshly ground pepper Heat a little olive oil in a skillet and fry the pancetta until the fat becomes transparent. Drain the pancetta on a paper towel. Beat the eggs and half-and-half together in a bowl. Melt the butter in a microwave. Cook the spaghetti according to package directions. Drain into a colander and return it to the same pot. Add the butter, pancetta and eggs mixture, stirring constantly with wooden spoons so the eggs are cooked by the hot noodles. Add the Romano and pepper to taste. Serve immediately. Serves 4 to 6. Note: Pancetta is an Italian bacon that is cured but not smoked. It can be purchased at gourmet food stores; regular bacon may also be used. Donna's Spaghetti Alla Carbonara Olive oil for frying \ pound thinly sliced Parma prosciutto 1 pound perciatelli (long, hollow pasta, thicker than spaghetti) salt for cooking perciatelli 4 eggs cup Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, freshly grated Freshly ground black pepper 2 tablespoons chopped parsley In a skillet, heat a little olive oil and fry the prosciutto until it becomes slightly crispy. Remove it to a platter covered with a paper towel. Cook the perciatelli (about 10 minutes) in salted water. In a warm crockery bowl large enough to handle the cooked pasta, beat the eggs, add the grated cheese and a liberal grinding of black pepper. Drain the pasta and pour it into the bowl. Add the prosciutto. With tongs toss the eggs, cheese and pasta, coating the strands well. Sprinkle in the parsley. Serve at once. Serves 4 to 6. Elia's Spaghetti Alla Carbonara { pound bacon, cut into small chunks (see note) 1 pound spaghetti 4 eggs Freshly grated black pepper { cup Romano cheese, freshly grated 2 tablespoons chopped parsley In a large skillet, fry the bacon pieces until crispy. Turn off the fire. Spoon away some of the grease, but save most of it. Push the bacon to one side and tilt the skillet slightly so the bacon does not sit in the grease. Cook the spaghetti. Beat the eggs in a bowl, season with freshly grated black pepper, and set aside. When the spaghetti is almost ready, tell all your guests to grab a plate and a fork. Reheat the grease and bacon pieces for a minute or so, then reduce the heat. Drain the pasta in a colander and immediately pour the pasta into the hot skillet. Shut off the burner or remove the skillet from the heat. Add the eggs to the pasta and toss madly. Add the cheese, another liberal dash of black pepper and the parsley. Serve at once. Serves 4. Note: Ham can be substituted for the bacon, and sauteed in butter and olive oil. The vegetarian version of this _ no bacon, but plenty of butter, cheese and eggs _ is also delicious.