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"Mom, I just don't like rice, okay! I don't think I should have to eat it if I don't like it!"
This is me, fifteen years ago, a ten year old making demands about what my mother should or should not serve for dinner. I remember my sister taking her cue from me from across the table, the very picture of seven year old self-righteousness, saying, "Yeah, I don't like it either!" and setting her fork down with a firmness that was just downright silly. I can't for the life of me figure out if my distaste was justified or not. I remember thinking rice was dry, grainy, tasteless and horrible. But this is not necessarily a reflection of reality, or of my mother's cooking, considering the list of foods I would rather have had my jaws sewn shut than eat at the time included pickles, quiche, guacamole, apple pie, tomatoes, cheese on hamburgers, gravy, olives, mussels, rare beef, cherries, yogurt, cream cheese... the list goes on. This is my dirty little secret. I was an atrocious eater. It took two and a half years of vegetarianism, a Summer as a vegan, and then a plummet back into the delicious world of meat to get me to realize that people can eat a lot of cool stuff, especially if they really have to. (My two favorite world cuisines, Ethiopian and Thai, would have never been on the menu for me if I hadn't been forced to broaden my horizons by my limited dietary options and my very veggie boyfriend.) Strange new foods are very often delicious, and the only way to find out is to bite the bullet and try it. Choking down rice doesn't seem like such a big deal once you've been feasting on Shiro Wot and Yeabesha Gomen at your local Ethiopian joint.
So I wonder what that ten year old version of me would have thought if she had been able to witness me this past Thursday night, sweating over a giant pot of arborio rice and mushrooms, willing it into becoming risotto. She probably would have begged me to order pizza.She would have been so wrong.
Risotto is really much more pasta than rice. Yes, it is rice, technically. But when it's been infused with onions and garlic and dry white wine, and stirred into oblivion until it's a creamy, starchy bowl of loveliness, the resemblance is much closer to a lovely pasta in cream sauce than a big bowl of rice. And let me address for a moment the mystique surrounding risotto, and it's reputation for being a difficult dish to pull off. I believe this is a conspiracy. Is it tedious? Sure, when you're adding stock a half a cup at a time and watching diligently as each grain soaks up every little ounce of liquid, it can feel a little tedious. This is not a quickie dish. But in terms of difficulty it's, well...not. I truly believe that risotto's reputation as a difficult dish is a farce put forth by professional chefs and restaurant folk in order to be able to continue serving what is essentially, I'm sorry, STILL RICE, in their fancy restaurants. And don't get me wrong. I adore risotto, and believe that it should be served in restaurants regardless of whether it takes years to master or not. But you should not feel discouraged from exploring the beauty of a well crafted risotto in the comfort of your own home because some professional cooks say it's difficult. Do not be intimidated, fellow Gastro-Junkies. It's just not that hard.
Here's the routine. There are a billion ways to prepare risotto, and a billion different preferences about type of stock, the toothiness of the grains...this is how I do it. Adjust as you see fit. Saute up a medium sized onion and 1 clove of garlic in about 4 tablespoons of butter over medium heat, until the onions are translucent and soft. Add the uncooked rice (use high quality arborio, not your regular long grained rice, the results just won't be the same) and toast until the edges of the grains go translucent. Reduce heat and add some good dry white wine, about a cup, and stir until the liquid is absorbed. You'll know when this happens because when you stir from the bottom of the pan the liquid won't run in to fill the space right away. Now add about a cup of high quality chicken broth (or if you're me, some good home made stock with a little water) that you've been keeping slightly warm on the back burner. Stir until the liquid is absorbed. Once it is, continue to add more broth, a half cup at a time, waiting for the liquid to absorb between each addition. Continue doing this for about 20 minutes, or until the rice is the consistency you prefer (I prefer mine fairly thick and creamy, as opposed to looser and soupy). Remove from heat, add a generous amount of Parmesan cheese and some cracked black pepper, and mangia.
You can adjust this recipe to be made with seafood (switch to vegetable stock), add mushrooms, or drop in a few drops of black truffle oil for some funky flavor. Whatever you choose to do with it, don't be afraid...it's only rice.
Risotto is really much more pasta than rice. Yes, it is rice, technically. But when it's been infused with onions and garlic and dry white wine, and stirred into oblivion until it's a creamy, starchy bowl of loveliness, the resemblance is much closer to a lovely pasta in cream sauce than a big bowl of rice. And let me address for a moment the mystique surrounding risotto, and it's reputation for being a difficult dish to pull off. I believe this is a conspiracy. Is it tedious? Sure, when you're adding stock a half a cup at a time and watching diligently as each grain soaks up every little ounce of liquid, it can feel a little tedious. This is not a quickie dish. But in terms of difficulty it's, well...not. I truly believe that risotto's reputation as a difficult dish is a farce put forth by professional chefs and restaurant folk in order to be able to continue serving what is essentially, I'm sorry, STILL RICE, in their fancy restaurants. And don't get me wrong. I adore risotto, and believe that it should be served in restaurants regardless of whether it takes years to master or not. But you should not feel discouraged from exploring the beauty of a well crafted risotto in the comfort of your own home because some professional cooks say it's difficult. Do not be intimidated, fellow Gastro-Junkies. It's just not that hard.
Here's the routine. There are a billion ways to prepare risotto, and a billion different preferences about type of stock, the toothiness of the grains...this is how I do it. Adjust as you see fit. Saute up a medium sized onion and 1 clove of garlic in about 4 tablespoons of butter over medium heat, until the onions are translucent and soft. Add the uncooked rice (use high quality arborio, not your regular long grained rice, the results just won't be the same) and toast until the edges of the grains go translucent. Reduce heat and add some good dry white wine, about a cup, and stir until the liquid is absorbed. You'll know when this happens because when you stir from the bottom of the pan the liquid won't run in to fill the space right away. Now add about a cup of high quality chicken broth (or if you're me, some good home made stock with a little water) that you've been keeping slightly warm on the back burner. Stir until the liquid is absorbed. Once it is, continue to add more broth, a half cup at a time, waiting for the liquid to absorb between each addition. Continue doing this for about 20 minutes, or until the rice is the consistency you prefer (I prefer mine fairly thick and creamy, as opposed to looser and soupy). Remove from heat, add a generous amount of Parmesan cheese and some cracked black pepper, and mangia.
You can adjust this recipe to be made with seafood (switch to vegetable stock), add mushrooms, or drop in a few drops of black truffle oil for some funky flavor. Whatever you choose to do with it, don't be afraid...it's only rice.
Whoever would have guessed that the little girl who would only eat fish sticks would grow up into a gastro-junkie!
ReplyDeleteNote to self: Must make risotto soon.