Cooking with Dulse: The Bacon of the Sea
How to cook dulse — the North Atlantic red seaweed that fries up smoky and crisp. Pan-frying, flakes, the DLT sandwich, and buying and storage tips.
Sofia Andersson ·
A dulse carbonara where crisped red seaweed delivers the smoke, salt and chew of guanciale — a genuinely satisfying plant-forward carbonara.
Carbonara has exactly one non-negotiable rule — egg, not cream — and a second, quieter one: something in the bowl must be salty, smoky and a little chewy. Traditionally that is guanciale. This recipe proposes a different answer: dulse, the dark-red Atlantic seaweed that crisps in a pan like bacon and tastes like the tide line walked through a smokehouse. It does not taste like pork, and pretending otherwise would insult both. What it does is fill the same role — a crisp, savoury, umami-rich counterpoint to silky egg sauce — and it does that job astonishingly well.
Dulse has carried the "bacon of the sea" nickname for generations in Atlantic kitchens, and for once the nickname understates things. If you have cooked our dulse BLT you already know the trick: dry-heat transforms dulse from chewy frond to shattering crisp with deep, smoky edges. In carbonara, those crisped fronds get folded through the pasta at the last second, so every forkful alternates silk and crunch.
Three properties make dulse the right seaweed here, where nori or wakame would fail:
For more on dulse's quirks — which forms to buy, how to toast, where the flavour lives — see our guide to cooking with dulse.
Buy whole-leaf dulse from a reputable seaweed seller rather than flakes from a shaker; buying seaweed sustainably covers what good sourcing looks like. Flakes work in a pinch — fry them for seconds, not minutes — but whole fronds give you ribbons of crisp.
Check the dulse for any small shells or grit and shake it out. Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan over medium heat. Add the dulse fronds — they will spit gently — and fry, turning once or twice, until they darken slightly, shrink and turn crisp at the edges, 2–3 minutes. Watch them like pine nuts: the gap between crisp and scorched is about twenty seconds. Lift out onto paper, sprinkle with the smoked salt if using, and break half of it into bite-sized shards. Reserve the rest for topping. Leave the flavoured oil in the pan.
Boil the spaghetti in well-salted water until just shy of the packet time. Before draining, reserve at least a cup of the pasta water — carbonara lives and dies on starchy water.
While the pasta cooks, whisk the yolks, whole egg, pecorino and black pepper in a large bowl until thick and uniform. This bowl should be big enough to hold all the pasta, because the sauce is made in it — never in the pan. Residual pasta heat will cook the eggs gently; direct pan heat will scramble them.
Drain the pasta and tip it, dripping, into the egg bowl. Toss hard and continuously with tongs or two forks. The heat of the pasta melts the cheese and thickens the yolks into a glossy coat. Add pasta water a splash at a time as you toss until the sauce flows like double cream — usually 60–100 ml. This takes a full minute of tossing. Do not rush it; the emulsion is the dish.
Fold through the dulse shards. Twirl into warm bowls, top with the reserved crisp dulse, extra pecorino, more pepper, and a grating of lemon zest if you like a bright edge against the smoke. Serve at once. Carbonara waits for no one.
Carbonara anxiety is really temperature anxiety, and it is misplaced. Yolks begin setting around 65 °C and proper scrambling does not start until well over 75 °C. Freshly drained pasta hovers around 80–90 °C at the surface but cools fast in a room-temperature bowl. Tossing constantly keeps any one spot from holding enough heat to set the egg hard. Two safeguards if you are nervous: temper the egg mixture with a spoonful of hot pasta water before the pasta goes in, and keep the frying pan out of the equation entirely. The bowl method is not a shortcut — it is the technique.
Dulse is a wild-harvested and increasingly farmed seaweed — still one of the few sea vegetables where wild harvest at small, well-managed scale supplies much of the market. Look for sellers who name the harvest area and season, favour whole-leaf product so you can see what you are buying, and store it airtight and dark. As with all seaweed, wild-harvesting etiquette matters if you ever gather your own: never tear the holdfast, the root-like anchor that holds the plant to its rock. Our seaweed foraging guide covers the ethics and the law.
Not exactly — and it is better for the honesty. Crisped dulse delivers smoke, salt, umami and crunch, the four roles guanciale plays, with a marine note of its own. Judge it as its own thing.
Yes, in a pinch. Fry flakes for only 20–30 seconds — they go from crisp to burnt almost instantly — and expect a finer, grittier texture through the sauce rather than distinct crisp shards.
Too much direct heat: either the sauce was finished in a hot pan or the pasta went into a thin metal bowl over residual burner heat. Use a big ceramic or glass bowl, toss constantly, and add pasta water early.
Between the eggs, pecorino and dulse — which contributes meaningful protein and minerals for a seaweed — a two-person portion is solid. It is a satisfying main, especially with a bitter-leaf salad beside it.
Moderate — dulse sits well below kombu and above nori on the iodine scale. A 12 g portion per person is within everyday ranges for most adults; see our seaweed nutrition guide for serving guidance.
How to cook dulse — the North Atlantic red seaweed that fries up smoky and crisp. Pan-frying, flakes, the DLT sandwich, and buying and storage tips.
Sofia Andersson ·
Crisped dulse has a deep, smoky savouriness that anchors a sandwich like bacon. The full technique — buying, crisping, assembling — for a proper DLT.
Sofia Andersson ·
Make seaweed pasta three ways: a kelp-flour dough that stays tender, a dulse-butter pan sauce, and a crisped-nori topping. Ratios, technique, timing.
Sofia Andersson ·