The search is on for the ideal pasta

For a busy weekday cook, having a good dried spaghetti in the pantry is about 90 percent of having dinner made. Dress it with butter and Parmigiano-Reggiano, or chopped fresh tomatoes and olive oil, and you have a memorable meal with little more than the time and effort it took to boil water.

When my go-to daily spaghetti brand disappeared from store shelves, I was bereft, robbed of the foundation for a dozen easy meals. So I bought 10 supermarket brands of spaghetti, each priced less than $4 a pound, and then we cooked them.

In the end, I found my replacement pasta, but there were some significant surprises along the way, including a gluten-free version that was nearly as good as our favorites.

First, let's specify that what we're talking about is dried spaghetti noodles made from wheat, water, and not much else. (Some brands, both domestic and Italian, add vitamins and minerals for the American market.) Egg pastas that have been dried are not the same thing.

But even with such a simple ingredient, there is good and not so good. The difference is not what you might expect: The actual flavor of the noodles we tasted varied little. Tasting naked spaghetti is like differentiating among various shades of beige.

When the differences really showed up was after we dressed the noodles with a little inexpensive bottled sauce. The most important thing about pasta is how it conveys flavor, and that can vary dramatically. Stirred with the same jarred sauce, some spaghetti tasted simple and bland; others tasted almost like something we'd make at home.

When we went back over the spaghetti brands we liked best, the thing we found in common was a rough, almost pitted texture on the uncooked noodles. This is what holds the sauce and allows you to get the full effect of it rather than just whatever liquid managed to cling to the noodle.

Which spaghetti did we like best? The Garofalo sold at Costco and Amazon.com ($3.81 per pound), Whole Foods' store-brand 365 "organic" ($1.49), and supermarket staple Barilla ($1.49).

That gluten-free? It was also from Barilla ($3.29). It had terrific bite and only a little of the mealy texture you might expect from a dried noodle made without the benefit of gluten from hard wheat. The package reads, "Made with corn and rice."

One thing we found curious was the difference between two seemingly similar noodles, one we bought at Trader Joe's labeled Lucio Garofalo (99 cents) and the more expensive Costco brand that we liked, labeled simply Garofalo.

When you read the fine print, they both had the same simple ingredients (semolina and durum wheat), and they both gave the same address for the manufacturer (indeed, the Garofalo website lists the full name as Pastificio Lucio Garofalo).

Though the Trader Joe's brand wasn't bad, it certainly wasn't as good as the other Garofalo. And when we inspected the raw noodles, we could see why: The Trader Joe's version was nearly smooth, but the Costco/Amazon version was the most pitted of any of the pastas we tested.

We've done these tastings a couple of times over the years with a mix of high-end and everyday brands. The Latini brand had won both. It was certainly a terrific pasta, but it seems to have disappeared (one importer says the brand was sold and is no longer making pasta). Rustichella d'Abruzzo did well both times, too, but as it costs as much as $8 per pound, it may be a bit pricey for everyday use.

After all, there's no need to break the bank for what should be the daily luxury of a simple, well-prepared plate of pasta.

Spaghetti carbonara is one of the simplest dishes to make - it takes only five ingredients, not including seasoning, and is done in less time than it takes for the noodles to cook. But sometimes the simplest dishes are the hardest to get right, and spaghetti carbonara is definitely one of those.

Fry cubed guanciale, add cooked noodles, stir in eggs beaten with grated cheese. When it's done well, you've made a wonderfully creamy sauce rich with the flavor of cured pork and cooked eggs. But getting the mixture just so is tricky. If the noodles are too hot, the eggs will curdle when you add them. If they're too cool, the eggs will remain raw.

Cooks have tried different tricks to get around that. You'll find carbonara recipes made with butter and cream, and even with cream cheese. Those are just about guaranteed not to curdle but have little to do with a proper carbonara.

The one trick I've found that works while still retaining the essential character of the dish is adding a little of the hot pasta cooking water if the dish starts to go wrong. If the eggs are still a little raw, the hot water will finish cooking them; if the eggs have curdled, stirring in a little water will help smooth them out.

There's still plenty of room for variation. Maureen B. Fant and Oretta Zanini De Vita, coauthors of the terrific Sauces & Shapes: Pasta the Italian Way, disagree on whether the guanciale should be cooked in olive oil or started dry in a cold pan, as you would bacon. (I'm with De Vita and favor a bit of oil to get things started.)

For his carbonara, Gino Angelini of Osteria Angelini cuts the guanciale in larger cubes - up to 1/2 inch - so they'll retain more of their character. Of course, he's using his spectacular house-cured guanciale.

Some cooks use whole eggs; others use just the yolks for a richer, creamier texture. For an everyday meal, I prefer the lighter sauce made with whole eggs.

If you can't find guanciale, pancetta can be substituted, though it's more peppery. And though the idea may make Romans blanch, no less an authority than the late Marcella Hazan suggests slab bacon as an alternative.

Cheese is another variable. Traditionally, pecorino Romano is preferred, but that can be too salty. A combination of pecorino and Parmigiano-Reggiano is a bit less assertive. Use as much or as little black pepper as you like, but remember that this is at heart a rustic dish and that flowery pepper heat offsets the richness nicely.

And finally, you don't need to use spaghetti. Some cooks prefer the extra chewiness of bucatini - like a thick spaghetti noodle with a hole going down the center. Cream cheese, however, remains beyond the pale.

EndText

Serves 4 to 6

EndTextStartText

1 pound spaghetti or bucatini

Salt

4 ounces guanciale, cut into 1/4-inch dice

2 generous tablespoons olive oil

3 eggs, at room temperature

31/2 ounces freshly grated pecorino Romano or a combination of pecorino Romano and Parmigiano-Reggiano

Freshly ground black pepper

EndTextStartText

1. Cook the spaghetti in rapidly boiling salted water over high heat until it is just tender but with a needle-thin core of crispness.

2. While the spaghetti is cooking, heat the guanciale and oil in a skillet over medium heat just until the guanciale begins to brown and crisp, 2 to 3 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat but keep it warm.

3. Break the eggs into a small bowl and add all of the cheese and a generous grinding of pepper. Whisk gently until smooth.

4. Drain the cooked pasta (reserving and keeping warm a cup of its water) and put it in the skillet with the guanciale over low heat. If it sizzles loudly, the pan is too hot; let it cool slightly. Toss quickly to mix well and coat the spaghetti with the rendered fat.

5. Holding the skillet slightly above but not touching the burner, pour the egg and cheese mixture in a stream into the pasta. Toss the pasta or stir it quickly with spoons to coat the spaghetti in a creamy sauce made from the lightly cooked eggs. Work quickly so the spaghetti does not get cold, or the eggs will stay raw and runny. But don't let the pan get too hot or the eggs will curdle. If either starts to happen, you can rescue it by stirring in a little of the reserved warm cooking water.

6. Taste and add more salt and pepper if desired before serving immediately.

- Adapted from Sauces & Shapes: Pasta the Italian Way EndText