Making a risotto isn’t all that different from turning out a béchamel—except that blending flour into hot fat and then gradually working in hot milk is tricky and tedious, while doing the same with rice, butter, and stock is easy and fascinating. Where flour is nothing more than a thickener, added for effect, not flavor, rice is something else. You develop the dish by developingit.
Raw, risotto rice looks a lot like other rice, if bulkier than most. But once you begin to stir it into melted butter, it quickly takes on a lovely, translucent sheen, revealing the opaque heart of the rice—la pèrla—buried within a hard, pellucid layer of starch, now as clear as glass. When you inhale that delicious toasty odor, the immediate temptation is to go on stirring the rice until that clear coating turns a golden amber. Waverley Root mentions a Lombard dish calledris in cagnon, in which the rice is fried in butter, garlic, and sage (and finished with plenty of grated cheese). It gets its name, he tells us,
because a minute drop of butter blackened in the frying clings to each grain of rice, making it resemble a certain type of small white black-headed worm called …cagnott.
I was achieving this effect—it’s quite easy to do—by my third risotto. Perhaps “makingris in cagnon ” is also a slang phrase in Lombardy for “not knowing when to stop.”
Then comes the first splash of liquid, which produces a great sizzling and a burst of heady steam. As you continue adding it, splash by splash, the grains of rice, the bits of onion, anything else in the pan, are gradually coated with a naturally creamy sauce—one made even more unctuous by a final addition of more butter and a generous amount of cheese, everything then receiving a furious beating to make it even creamier (as they say in Italy,all’onda —like a wave).
By the time the dish was ready, I was completely enchanted. This is what cooking is all about.
It is, in short, the rice itself and not the additions, the stocks, the flavourings, which make the northern Italian risotto unique.
— Elizabeth David,Italian Food
The reason I resisted risotto for so long was partly a matter of my own culinary traditions speaking and partly one of temperament. My cooking is based more on my various relationships with the stuff of our larder than on the myriad kinds of business with which cooks transform these things into this or that dish.
Thus, for me, Elizabeth David cuts directly to the heart of the matter. It was only when I was able to shove aside the mythologies that surround risotto and begin to experience the possibilities of the rice—the “riso“—itself that my way became clear. If you are a certain kind of cook, you need to become captivated by a particular ingredient’s character, and even the humbler varieties of risotto rice have an integrity that draws you to them. The stock, the wine, the Parmesan—it isn’t as if these things don’t make their contributions, but they are, in the end, items of wardrobe, there to dress the rice only to the extent that they are wanted and prove a comfortable fit.
As for ourselves, risotto fits most easily into the way we eat when it is the meal, not just an accompaniment. There were, we knew, many risottos in which the rice is combined with something else, but often this something else—even if it’s a vegetable—is cooked separately and stirred in at the end. We wanted, instead, to cook it with the rice for as much of the cooking time as possible, taking full advantage of that wonderful sauce while adding its own quiet complementarity. Volunteers immediately stepped forward: carrots, kale, leeks, parsnips, celery root, butternut squash, portobello mushrooms. As it turned out, most of these were good, but the last two produced results so memorable that we wanted to share them here.
First, though, listen: cooking risotto is both easy and a lot of fun. Easy because, unlike an equally well-made pot of plain boiled long-grain rice, there’s no mystery about measurements or timing; you simply keep pouring in boiling liquid, stirring all the while, until the dish tastes done. Fun because doing this breaks all the rice-cooking rules I know. Cooking long-grain rice is a matter of keeping out of the way; cooking this rice is all hands-on. The more vigorously you stir, the creamier the results—without any damage to theamour-propre of the grains themselves.
NOTES ON ITALIAN RICE
Although arborio is the Italian rice best known and most frequently used by cooks outside of Italy, I don’t think it’s the best rice for risotto. [These] are vialone nano semifino, which is grown in the province of Mantova, and carnaroli, which comes from Novara and Vercelli.
— Arrigo Cipriani,The Harry’s Bar Cookbook
According to Burton Anderson—who, inTreasures of the Italian Table, recounts his visit to the Lomellina area of Lombardy, where many of Italy’s choicest rices are grown and where he talked at length to agronomists, rice farmers, processors, and chefs—all the varieties of rice now specifically used for risotto date back no further than to the middle of the nineteenth century, when traditional Italian rice (known simply asnostrale —“ours”) was crossbred with short-grain japonica rice, imported from Asia. Today, all such Italian rice is divided into four groups based on grain size, from small to large:comune (common or ordinary),semifino, fino, and—the choice for risotto—superfino.(In America, we would say something like “jumbo gourmet.”)
However, he then notes that most of the rice sold in Italy doesn’t reveal either the varietyor the size on its packaging, content instead to attract customers by cheap price, fancy packaging, or just a snappy name. Certainly this applies to the rice from our local supermarket that we used for our early risotto experiments. I had assumed it was arborio, but the Pastene Company, which packages it, makes no other claim for it than that it is “Italian rice”—which, it seems, is about as helpful a description asvin rouge.
Well, like many another, I’ve drunk a lot ofvin rouge in my day, and Matt and I have gotten a good deal of pleasure out of this “Italian rice.” Even so, we fired off an order to Zingerman’s Delicatessen in Ann Arbor, Michigan, whose excellent mail-order catalog offers three different high-quality risotto rices—arborio,baldo, andcarnaroli —with prices ranging from about five to seven dollars a pound. All three are imported from the Principato di Lucedio, a rice-growing estate in the Piedmont.
When these arrived, each packed in its own attractive cloth sack, they proved to be something of an eye-opener—and, at the same time, at least distant kin to our supermarket arborio rice. Thecarnaroli, especially, was impressive: its grains a bunch of sturdycontadini, with appealing, rough-hewn, husky exteriors that hid what would prove to be deliciously chewy kernels. The arborio actually did resemble the Pastene rice, but was less processed-looking; thebaldo was, compared to all, distinctly smaller—tiny little nubs encased in a coating of clear starch.
Although the importer describesbaldo as “a newsuperfino variety,” Burton Anderson describes it as afino, and visual examination bears this out. Indeed, I expected it to practically dissolve during cooking, but instead it produced a good-tasting rice with a yielding texture that was the closest of the three to that of ordinary long-grain rice.
All three rices are worth trying and, taken together, give some sense of the range of character in Italian risotto rices. However, thecarnaroli stood out head and shoulders above the rest. It’s hard to imagine a risotto rice producing a creamier sauce or offering a more impressively resilient texture. Rice lovers will find it a revelation.
However, thanks to the popularity of Italian cooking in this country, good-quality arborio has become more and more available on supermarket shelves at increasingly competitive prices. This is the sort of rice that most native Italians cook with, and it is what we mostly use, too.
MAKING RISOTTO
Basic Information
The Rice.For the most spectacular results, track down a bag ofcarnaroli, but even a supermarket risotto rice provides better than adequate results.
The Pot.Although I had always imagined that risotto was made in a saucepan, many Italian cooks recommend a deep skillet, since this provides the stirrer with more control and accelerates evaporat
ion. Following this logic, we found that a nonstick wok was the perfect choice—at least for our small-sized propane burners.10It allows us to do the initial toasting of the rice with less butter, ensures an even distribution of heat, and helps corral flying grains. Our second choice would be a large nonstick skillet.
The Liquid.Fill the teakettle and set it to boil. If you have a quart or so of good homemade chicken stock on hand, by all means start with it. You’ll probably still need some boiling water to finish up. If we’re in the mood for wine, we open a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and add a glass to the pan.
Cook’s Note.Italian cooks often add a spoonful or so of butter along with the cheese during the final stirring (called themantecatura —“beating into a pulp”), which emphasizes the creamy richness of the dish. For us this is an option, but occasionally an irresistibly attractive one.
RISOTTO WITH BUTTERNUT SQUASH
[serves 2 or 3 as a meal, 4 to 6 as a side dish]
Italians make a similar risotto with pumpkin, but they steam and purée it first. In our version, the squash is added raw, so that the finished dish is full of tiny, molten orange cubes. We look for smallish, tubular (thick-necked) squashes with unblemished skin and a feeling of heft. Butternut improves in flavor when stored well, which makes this dish increasingly enjoyable as fall segues into winter.
1 small butternut squash (about 1 pound prepared weight)
2 or 3 tablespoons butter or butter and olive oil
1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
1 onion, chopped small
1 clove garlic, minced
small sprig of fresh thyme or winter savory, minced
1 cup (8 ounces) risotto rice
½ cup dry white wine (optional)
1 ounce (a heaping ¼ cup) grated Parmesan cheese
freshly ground black pepper to taste
Peel the butternut squash, scrape out its seeds, and cut it into dice-sized cubes. Fill a kettle with water, bring it to a boil, and then keep it simmering. Melt the butter (with the olive oil, if using) in a large nonstick wok or skillet set over a medium flame. Stir in the salt, onion, garlic, and herb. As soon as the onion turns translucent, add the rice. Now, stirring continuously with a wooden spoon or spatula, sauté the rice until its coating of starch has turned clear and the rice itself releases a toasty aroma.
Stir in the cubed butternut, then immediately pour in the wine—or, if this is omitted, the first splash of boiling water from the kettle (or ladleful of hot stock). As soon as the liquid evaporates, pour in more, about half a cup at a time. Stir regularly but not necessarily continuously (this is a good time to wash everything used for prep).
After 20 minutes, begin tasting the rice and squash for doneness. When the rice is pleasantly chewy and the squash tender, remove the pan from the heat. Add the Parmesan, a bit at a time, stirring quite vigorously (this develops the creaminess). Taste for salt, adding more if necessary, and season generously with freshly ground black pepper. Serve at once.
RISOTTO WITH PORTOBELLO MUSHROOMS
[serves 2 or 3 as a meal, 4 to 6 as a side dish]
Portobellos are the darker-colored cremini mushrooms allowed to mature and produce gills, thus developing their flavor to the fullest. The noted mushroom chef Jack Czarnecki inA Cook’s Book of Mushroomssays—and I think rightly—that “portobellos are the only [supermarket mushrooms] that possess the size and succulence of the larger wild mushrooms, such as porcini.” Choose undamaged specimens with fully opened but not yet deliquescing gills.
3 or 4 whole portobello mushrooms (about ¾ pound)
4 to 6 tablespoons butter
¼ teaspoon ground hot red pepper
1½ teaspoons salt
6 to 8 shallots, chopped small
1 clove garlic, minced
1 cup (8 ounces) risotto rice
½ cup dry white wine (optional)
several sprigs of Italian parsley, minced
1 ounce (a heaping ¼ cup) grated Parmesan cheese
freshly ground black pepper to taste
Carefully brush the mushrooms clean of any detritus, cutting away the humus-coated stem bottoms. Gently detach the stems from the caps. Cut the stems into small-sized dice and the caps into larger bite-sized cubes. Divide the butter equally between a 10-inch nonstick skillet and a nonstick wok, or into two skillets—one for sautéing the cubed mushroom caps and the other for preparing the rest of the dish.
Fill a kettle with water, bring it to a boil, and then keep it simmering. Set both pans over a medium flame. As the butter melts, add the hot red pepper and half a teaspoon of salt to the skillet and a teaspoon of salt to the wok. Turn the cubed mushroom caps into the skillet and the shallots into the wok. When the mushroom caps have wept their liquid and begun to turn brown, remove them from the heat.
Meanwhile, as soon as the shallots turn translucent, stir in the minced garlic and then pour in the rice. Stirring continuously with a wooden spoon or spatula, sauté the rice until its coating of starch has turned clear and the rice itself releases a toasty aroma. Turn up the heat to medium-high. Stir in the minced mushroom stems, then immediately pour in the wine—or, if this is omitted, the first splash of boiling water from the kettle (or ladleful of hot stock). As soon as the liquid evaporates, pour in more, about half a cup at a time. Stir regularly.
After 20 minutes, stir in the sautéed mushroom caps and the parsley. Begin tasting the rice for doneness. When it is tender and pleasantly chewy, remove the pan from the heat. Add the Parmesan, a bit at a time, stirring quite vigorously. Taste for salt, adding more if neces-sary, and season generously with freshly ground black pepper. Serve at once.
RISOTTO AL SALTO
In Italian this means “sautéed risotto,” but “risotto pancakes” would be a better name for this dish, which is a memorable way of using up any remaining risotto from the night before. I don’t usually like to eat leftovers for breakfast, but I make an exception here—this is ultimate breakfast fare. Since there’s no telling how much leftover risotto will be at hand, the recipe here is necessarily somewhat sketchy, but the idea is simple enough. The challenge is to make one big crusty pancake, but if your flipping skills are negligible, make smaller ones instead.
Pour ½ tablespoon olive oil into a nonstick skillet or pan. Tilt the pan to coat the entire surface lightly with oil. Put the leftover risotto into the pan and flatten it evenly with a spatula. Now put the pan onto a low flame and cook the pancake(s) slowly until a golden crust forms underneath. Then flip it over and let the other side become golden and crusty. (A little more olive oil brushed on before turning it helps along the crisping process.) To serve, slide onto a plate and cut into wedges. Eat at once.
ITALIAN BOUILLON CUBES—A TASTING
Nowadays, brodo is made from scratch mainly as a treat, and thebròdo di dadi, the stock made from bouillon cubes, has triumphed in the Italian kitchen. Even quite elegant recipes allow it as an ingredient; and I’ve never met an Italian cook who felt guilty about using bouillon cubes in daily cooking, for they are quick and economical…. In all fairness it must be said, however, that Italian bouillon cubes are much more flavorful than ours.
— Nika Hazelton,The Regional Italian Kitchen
Bouillon cubes are perhaps the most basic method of seasoning in the Italian home kitchen. Italian cooks use them to give broth, soup, sauces—almost anything—added flavor, much the way Americans use salt and pepper. We achieve the best results with Knorr brand…. Keep a large supply on hand since their uses are infinite, and they can be stored on the shelf indefinitely.
— Efrem Funghi Calingaert and Jacquelyn Days Serwer,
Pasta and Rice Italian Style
Although it’s not at all unusual to come across quotations like the ones above, I didn’t take them seriously until a few years ago, when I read an interesting piece in a prominent food magazine in which several food writers were queried about what they stuffed into their suitcases when they headed back home from their trips overseas. Avery f
amous writer confessed that, for her,brodo di dadi (literally, “broth from dice”) topped the list. Driedporcini, capers from Pantelleria, estate olive oils, tiny bottles of vintagebalsamico —all these things I could understand. Butbouillon cubes?
In Italy, it seems, it isn’t just housewives in a hurry who are addicted to them. Top-flight chefs use them all the time. At the Osteria Cascina dei Fiori, a rustic inn specializing in Piedmontese cuisine, Burton Anderson watched the chef, Massimo Milan, demonstrate the making of a true risotto. He reported the following little trick without thinking it worth a comment (although in an earlier chapter he had lambasted Neapolitanpizzaioli for using canned tomato sauce):
The broth had been made without salt, so that it remained clear, although Massimo added some bouillon to heighten flavor, even shredding a bit of the cube directly into the rice.
Could there, then, be something to the rumor that foreign—and, especially, Italian—bouillon cubes have some unique quality that lifts them out of the realm of the meat-flavored salt cubes available here? I was intrigued enough by this question to importune anyone I knew heading for Italy to smuggle some packages back for me. And so eventually I assembled an informal tasting of twelve—two from Mexico, a few from Switzerland, but the majority (seven) from Italy.
The Tasting
In appearance, these cubes were all much larger than their American cousins, each weighing twelve grams, or almost half an ounce. But where most American bouillon cubes are meant to be dissolved in a cup of water, the directions for these called for twice that amount. (The Mexican ones, although the exact same size, called for a quart.)
Bouillon cubes, there as here, come in a variety of flavors. The group I had assembled I divided into five categories: beef, chicken, mushroom, vegetable, and “broth.” Consequently, the tasting was divided into five rounds. Bouillon was made from a cube taken from each of the packages. This was tasted by itself, and then compared with the others in its category. Additionally, the beef and chicken-flavored bouillon cubes were compared to a standard canned broth of the same flavor.
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