On Risotto

Certain foods carry a mystique around their preparation. Whipped cream, souffles, mayonnaise, pie crusts: all are imbued with advice, caveats, admonishments. Your batterie de cuisine must be immaculate, your hands chilly, your heart resolute. Or you must stir until your arm falls off–this exact wording frequently used. Stir until your arm falls off. That sounds like fun. Or, cold hands, cold butter, cold water. And, ideally, a chilly marble slab. I do indeed have cold hands, courtesy of Raynaud’s Syndrome. It’s a bad reason to be good at pie crusts. As for the marble slab, I am no heiress.

Our dirty garage.

I came to preparing the above foods late in life, and by late I mean well into my forties. I’d read too many recipes designed to terrify. They’d done their jobs. Which was unfortunate.

Enter risotto. Here was a dish rife with culinary dangers.

Anyone setting out to learn to make risotto, as I did recently, will find that the hardest part is sorting through the abundance of information and recipes.

John Thorne, “Riso In Bianco,” Pot On The Fire

The above was published in 2000. Matters have worsened since, but Thorne’s essay, like all his writing, makes for instructive reading. In a newsletter entitled “Simple Food” and five award-winning books, Thorne did not encounter recipes so much as wrestle them to the mat. Risotto was no exception. He has since dropped off the face of the earth, much to the dismay of his fans.

Downtown Berkeley. Normally this place would be mobbed–I mean packed–with students, shoppers, senior citizens, and crazy people. Now….nobody.

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Risotto makers are much esteemed in kitchens and dining rooms, as though risotto were somehow more demanding than a fine plate of pasta.

Judy Rodgers, The Zuni Cafe Cookbook

May Ms. Rodgers rest in peace. Risotto is more demanding than a fine plate of pasta.

Whatever your clock, if you want risotto, you must stir to acheive it. Many are the writers who warn you about said stirring: if not until your arm falls off, well, close to it.

You must never stop stirring…..

Marcella Hazan, Essentials Of Classic Italian Cooking

In an ideal world, that is, one without a pandemic and subsequent lockdown, you could prepare your risotto in peace. Your neighbors would not be whooping at their televisions. Their toddlers would not be shrieking. Your kids would not be “distance learning,” in close proximity to you. Your husband wouldn’t go off the wheelchair ramp in the yard, getting one tire stuck in the mud.

You would not be day drinking.

The rice will take around 22 minutes to cook, but the one thing you cannot afford to do is stop stirring for more than a minute or two.

Tamasin Day-Lewis, Tamasin’s Kitchen Classics

Suppose, just suppose, you are interrupted while stirring by one of the above. Or something your hostess hasn’t imagined. Insert interruption here. To place your risotto on pause, breathe deeply. Turn the heat down under rice and broth to the lowest possible blip. If yours is an electric stove, remove the pans from the heat and cover them.

Attend to your interruptions.

Once back at the stove, turn the heat back up. Add liquid to the rice. Resume stirring. I will not tell you calm down. Just try not to kill anybody, least of all yourself. Make risotto.

Risotto making is rather like bread baking: each outing will be slightly different. Sometimes you’ll need all the broth, sometimes not. Sometimes you’ll need more liquid after the broth is used up. Boiling water will do. Some rices inhale liquids rapidly, others are more leisurely. You must pay attention.

Wheelchair derailment made photography difficult. Above, a floral interlude.

Most risotto recipes tell you the dish is ready in twenty minutes or thereabouts. I find it takes more like thirty. As the rice cooks, the grains will swell and thicken, changing color from glassy white to creamy beige. The risotto will look done. It will smell done. Taste. You will know.

People will tell you risotto must be served immediately. In a perfect world, they’re right. Given the world we live in is a complete mess, know risotto will hold over the lowest possible heat in a heavy, lidded pot for about an hour. Take great care with this, or your risotto will swell into congee, which isn’t what you want here.

Also contrary to popular opinion, I have found risotto perfectly good the following day, gently reheated with a bit of water.