potonthefire

by Pot On The Fire Free(Lit)

  However, it wasn’t until Hazan’s second book,More Classic Italian Cooking, appeared, with a variant of the original recipe—in which ribbons of parboiled savoy cabbage were sautéed in olive oil with minced garlic and tossed with the cooked rice along with mozzarella and Parmesan—that the dish became a regular part of her cooking. Not only was it surprisingly good with the cabbage, it positively invited improvisation, drawing to it whatever was in season or especially appealing at the produce stand. By the time we began to live together, she had made it with, among other things, tomatoes, fennel, zucchini, and asparagus.

  It was with asparagus that Matt first prepared the dish for me, and to this day I wonder why she was ever willing to cook for me again. I can’t think of another meal whose making filled me with so much dismay or brought about so much impulsive acting out. This wasn’t because the resulting dish wasn’t any good—on the contrary, it was delicious—but it was a deliciousness achieved in a way that had me transfixed with dread.

  First, there was the asparagus issue. A lifetime of acute asparagus deficiency had rigidly shaped my cooking of that vegetable: if necessary I would peel it, I would even trim away obviously dry and woody ends, but otherwise I always cooked the whole spears—so that I could gnaw off everything edible. Matt, on the other hand, working up from the butt, found the point where the spear would easily snap in two and then discarded the lower part. When I realized what she was doing, I couldn’t keep myself from snatching these from the refuse pile and cooking them separately. Then, while she continued her work at the stove, I sat at the kitchen table, sullenly sucking at my collection of cellulose-infarcted discards.

  And that wasn’t all. I had long ago perfected a method of cooking asparagus in a contained environment that allowed no flavor mote to escape (see page 224). Incredulously, then, I watched Matt blithely toss the spears into a huge pot of boiling water as if they were strands of pasta, letting all that asparagus flavor leach away.

  Then came the final straw. The cooked asparagus was removed from the pot, to be replaced there with the risotto rice. I could barely stand it. This was rice for which we’d paid a premium, supposedly because of its raison d’être—the thick, creamy, delicate sauce produced by all that lovely starch, which would now becompletely dissolved. As I stood there staring disconsolately, unbelievingly, into the pot, what I saw there was not cooking water but a kind of elemental cream of asparagus soup.

  So, while Matt was busy tossing the rice and asparagus pieces together in a buttery, eggy, lemony sauce, I was at the kitchen sink, blowing fiercely on a mug of boiling-hot, starchy, asparagus-flavored liquid that I had retrieved as the rest went swirling down the drain. By the time we sat down to supper, I had already made a first meal for myself out of the garbage.

  A writer who can’t discard a sentence—however cleverly crafted—for the good of the piece is a writer who has lost (or has never gained) control over his writing. The same is true of a cook. I knew this, but to act on it I had to overcome a fiercely stubborn resistance to “wasting” anything desirable, a resistance that was, in fact, a manifestation of my fear of deprivation. So, potato peelings, despite their high nutritional value, have always been thrown away without a tremor of regret, while cheese parings, meat scraps, even chunks of gristly fat, are more likely to end up in my mouth … if I haven’t already adapted the dish to include them (as I did later devise a version ofris e latt con parmigiano e sparagio that included every bit of rice starch and asparagus flavor—see page 178).

  Paradoxically, what in northern Italy had sprung from a cooking based on economy of means became possible for me only after a period of surfeit. As Italian rice got cheaper and easier to find, we began to eat it more often, and my deprivation anxieties began to ease. Then, our move to what is sometimes called “Asparagus Valley” meant that for the first time in my life, I actually hadenough asparagus, something I had thought as much an impossibility as getting too much sleep.

  So, slowly but surely, I was won round, Matt was vindicated, andriso in bianco found a place in our everyday eating. What I discovered was that cooking risotto rice like pasta didn’t make it the same as pasta. With its starchy integument boiled away, Italian rice develops a honeycombed texture that sponges up the sauce that on pasta would only be a coating. This quality can be drowned in a sea of sauce—but there is no better way to set off a small amount of a rich and delicate one than to toss it intoriso.

  Also, of course, ittastes like rice, and there are certain foods and assorted aromatics that make a match with rice as they do with nothing else. In my opinion, asparagus is better with rice than with pasta, and so are—for instance—fresh peas, ham, chicken livers, and shrimp. Sauté some celery in butter, stir it intoriso in bianco, and you’ll never think the same way about that vegetable again. And rice is to sage what pasta is to oregano: the starch that gives that herb its reason for being.

  Mozzarella, on the other hand, is good with rice in a different way than it is with pasta. When small cubes of that cheese are mixed into the hot rice, they produce long filaments that adhere to the cooked grain, resulting in a deliciously chewy tangle of rice and cheese—something that doesn’t happen when mozzarella is tossed with pasta. There, the slick surface of the noodles doesn’t give it anything to grip, and so it clumps together instead.

  The recipes that follow show how we have adaptedriso in bianco to provide a variety of simple one-dish meals. Consequently, they are heartier and contain more ingredients than the traditional versions, which are intended to be eaten as a separate course. At the same time, ours are less rich in butter and cheese—although anyone succumbing to Elizabeth David’s siren call will receive no scolding from us.

  Risi in biancoare like risotti without the fuss. These dishes, built upon the simplicity of plain white arborio rice, although little discussed in America, are an excellent alternative to pasta and represent Italian cooking at its simple, hearty best.

  — Gioietta Vitale,Riso: Undiscovered Rice Dishes

  of Northern Italy

  Cooking term. A pioggia(“like rain”)—to add rice to boiling water in a thin, steady stream so that the water continues to bubble throughout. A simple way to accomplish this is to put the rice in a pitcher and, tilting it carefully over the cooking pot, slowly sprinkle the kernels out of the pouring spout into the rolling water. And do remember that the purer the cooking water, the more the taste of this delicious rice will come through.

  RISO IN BIANCO (BASIC RECIPE)

  [serves 2 as a main course, 4 as a side dish (see note)]

  3 or 4 quarts water

  pure sea salt

  ½ pound (about 1 cup) Italian risotto rice

  Bring the water to a boil in a large pot and salt as you would to cook pasta. Pour in the rice apioggia (see above) and stir once with a big wooden spoon. When the water returns to a roiling boil, lower the heat and simmer the rice until it is just al dente, 15 to 18 minutes. When the rice is done, drain it gently in a sieve or colander, letting the liquid run out of its own accord but not shaking it dry.

  Cook’s Note.Calculate serving sizes as you usually do with pasta—if you serve 6 with a pound box of spaghetti, you’ll find a pound of rice cooked in this manner does the same service. If you mean to serve the rice as a side dish or as a first course, cut the measure in half.

  CLASSIC RISO IN BIANCO DISHES

  RIS IN CAGNON

  This traditional rice dish was a regularprimo for most Milanese families before rice gave way to the more fashionable pasta.

  — Anna Del Conte,Gastronomy of Italy

  ½ pound Italian rice, prepared as directed above

  1 clove garlic

  4 sage leaves

  4 tablespoons (½ stick) unsalted butter

  1 cup grated Parmesan

  While the rice cooks, carefully press the garlic clove with the flat side of a cleaver or chef’s knife to crush it as flat as possible. Bruise the fresh sage leaves with the spine of the knife to release the herb�
��s fragrant oil.

  Melt the unsalted butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. Add the flattened garlic and bruised sage leaves and cook, stirring, until the butter is golden brown and smells like toasted hazelnuts (it is, in fact, calledburro nocciola —hazelnut butter). Take the pan from the heat and remove and discard the aromatics.

  Some cooks toss the cooked rice with the seasoned butter and Parmesan, and others invert it onto a platter or into a shallow serving bowl and top it with the butter and cheese. Either way, it should be served at once.

  Variations.For a more potent version of this dish, finely mince the garlic and sage leaves together and leave them in the butter.

  To makeRiso al Burro Nocciola: omit the sage and garlic.

  To makeRiso al Salvia e Fegatini: cook 2 or 3 chicken livers, cut into small pieces, in the butter with the garlic and sage and reduce the amount of Parmesan by half.

  RISO CON LIMONE ALLA PIEMONTESE

  [serves 2 as a meal, 4 as a side dish]

  Risotto made with lemon appears in almost every Italian cookbook that ever there was, and for good reason—the sharp bite of the lemon helps keep the essential richness of the dish at bay. Here, conversely, the delicate creaminess of tempers the acidity of the lemon without crowding its bright citrus flavor. If you know this combination only as a risotto, you’re in for a delightful surprise.

  ½ pound Italian rice, prepared as directed above

  2 egg yolks

  2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

  1 cup freshly grated Parmesan, plus more for the table

  2 or 3 tablespoons unsalted butter

  salt and freshly milled pepper to taste

  While the rice cooks, separate the yolks into a small bowl and beat with a fork until frothy and well blended. Beat in the lemon juice and then stir in the Parmesan. When the rice is done, pour it into a sieve or colander and gently shake out any remaining liquid. Immediately return it to the saucepan and, with a large cooking spoon, stir in the egg-yolk-and-cheese mixture. Put the lump of butter on top and press it into the rice with the spoon. Then put the pot on the burner over the lowest possible flame and let it sit there for 2 or, at most, 3 minutes—just long enough for the butter to melt completely. Mix it gently all through the rice, taste for salt, and mill over a generous amount of pepper. Serve at once in a warmed bowl with the reserved Parmesan.

  Variation.Omit the lemon juice and you haveRiso all’ Uovo.

  RISO CON MOZZARELLA E POMODORO FRESCHI

  [serves 2 as a meal, 4 as a side dish]

  ½ pound Italian rice, prepared as directed above

  2 tablespoons good fruity Italian olive oil

  1 clove garlic, minced

  sprig of basil leaves

  ¼ teaspoon salt

  freshly ground black pepper to taste

  1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar (optional)

  2 or 3 large, ripe summer tomatoes, cut into chunks

  1 egg-sized ball fresh mozzarella, cut into tiny cubes

  While the rice cooks, heat the olive oil in a large skillet over a low flame. When it is hot, stir in the minced garlic. Tear the basil leaves into bits with your fingers and sprinkle them in while the garlic cooks. As soon as the garlic is translucent, turn down the flame as low as it will go and mix in the salt, pepper, balsamic vinegar (if desired), and chunks of tomato, including any juice. Gently turn the tomatoes once or twice to coat them with the flavored oil. They should be warmed through but not cooked.

  Drain the rice and turn it into a large bowl. Immediately toss in the cubes of mozzarella, being sure that they are distributed evenly throughout the rice. Then gently mix in the contents of the skillet and serve.

  RISO CON MOZZARELLA E PEPERONE ROSSO

  [serves 2 as a meal, 4 as a side dish]

  ½ pound Italian rice, prepared as directed above

  2 tablespoons good fruity Italian olive oil

  1 teaspoon black olive paste (see note)

  1 onion, coarsely chopped

  1 red bell pepper, cut small

  1 clove garlic, minced

  ¼ teaspoon salt

  freshly ground black pepper to taste

  1 egg-sized ball fresh mozzarella, cut into tiny cubes

  ½ cup grated Parmesan

  Set a large heat-proof bowl to warm in the oven, preheated to its lowest setting.

  While the rice cooks, heat the olive oil in a large skillet over a medium flame. When it is hot, stir in the black olive paste and then the onion and bell pepper bits. When these are tender, add the minced garlic and continue cooking until it is translucent. Season to taste with salt and a generous grinding of black pepper. Keep warm.

  Drain the rice and turn it into the warm bowl. Immediately toss in the cubes of mozzarella, being sure that they are distributed evenly throughout the rice. Then gently but thoroughly mix in the contents of the skillet.

  If serving as a side dish, stir in the Parmesan cheese. If the dish is to be eaten as a main course, divide the dressed rice into warmed bowls and bring the cheese to the table separately, to be added to taste by each eater.

  Cook’s Note.Black olive paste, sometimes labeled “olivada,” is a simple mash of black olives packed in olive oil. Recently, our supermarket has been carrying a version made in Greece with Kalamata olives that is very good and very reasonably priced.

  RISO CON MOZZARELLA E SALSICCIE

  [serves 2 or 3 as a meal]

  1 tablespoon good fruity Italian olive oil

  2 links sweet Italian sausage, casings removed

  2 carrots, peeled and cut into small cubes

  1 large onion, coarsely chopped

  1 clove garlic, minced

  1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar

  ½ pound Italian rice, prepared as directed above

  1 egg-sized ball fresh mozzarella, cut into tiny cubes,

  preserving brine reserved

  ¼ teaspoon salt

  freshly ground black pepper to taste

  Set a large heat-proof bowl to warm in the oven, preheated to its lowest setting.

  Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over a low flame. Pull the sausage meat into small bits and add these to the skillet as the oil heats. Stir the mixture with a spatula, turn the heat up to medium, add the carrot cubes, chopped onion, and minced garlic, and stir in the balsamic vinegar. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is translucent and the carrot tender.

  After the carrots and onions have been cooking for 10 minutes, start the rice. While it cooks, smell the brine that surrounded the mozzarella. If it has no off odors—it should be tangy but clean-smelling—stir ¼ cup of it into the skillet with the sausage and vegetables. Otherwise, stir in ¼ cup of cooking liquid, scooped from the rice pot.

  When the rice is done, drain it and turn it into the warmed bowl. Immediately toss in the cubes of mozzarella, being sure that they are distributed evenly throughout the rice. Then gently but thoroughly mix in the contents of the skillet. Season with salt, if necessary, and plenty of black pepper. Serve at once.

  RISO CON ASPARAGI

  [serves 2 as a meal, 4 as a side dish]

  Matt drew on her experience withpasta alla carbonara—where raw eggs are “cooked” when they are tossed with hot pasta—and Greek avgolemono sauce—where egg yolks and lemon juice are beaten together into a simple lemony sauce—to come up with this dish, which sets off fresh asparagus like few others.

  3 tablespoons unsalted butter

  1 pound asparagus, trimmed

  ½ pound Italian rice

  1 egg

  juice of ½ lemon (about 2 tablespoons)

  1 cup freshly grated Parmesan

  freshly ground black pepper to taste

  Put the butter in a large heat-proof bowl and set this into the oven, preheated to its lowest setting.

  Bring 3 or 4 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot and salt as you would to cook pasta. Toss in the spears of asparagus and cook them until barely al dente, about 4 minutes. Remove these from t
he water, drain, and transfer to a cutting board. Sprinkle the rice into the boiling water and cook as directed in the basic recipe (page 169). Once the asparagus is cool enough to handle, cut it into bite-sized pieces and place these in a colander or large sieve. In a small bowl, beat together the egg and lemon juice.

  When the rice is done, drain as directed, using the same colander or sieve containing the asparagus pieces (thus reheating these). Turn both into the now melted butter in the warmed bowl. Toss well and then stir in the egg-and-lemon mixture. Note: be aware that if eating raw eggs is a health concern, this one will be only barely cooked by the hot rice.

  If serving as a side dish, stir in the Parmesan and season generously with black pepper. If the dish is to be eaten as a main course, divide the dressed rice into warmed bowls and bring the cheese and pepper mill to the table separately, to be added to taste by each eater.

  Variations to all the above recipes.It must be clear by now that these dishes invite improvisation. For instance, cabbage or fennel can replace the carrots in the sausage recipe. Cubes of tender summer squash can be sautéed along with the red pepper in that dish. As for the asparagus recipe above, substitute strips of julienned zucchini for the asparagus, sprinkling these with salt and letting them sit in a bowl for 30 minutes. Then squeeze them firmly to extract as much water as possible. Substituting a generous pinch of chopped fresh marjoram leaves for the lemon, sauté these in 2 tablespoons olive oil and stir them into the rice at the same time as the beaten egg.

  It is hot in August in southern Italy. Patience Gray, writing a letter to us very early one morning in August 1998, said that for lunch that day she and her husband, Norman,

  can choose between apeperonata con riso or the Catalan dishla verdura (potatoes, onions, mange-tout beans). Dawn cooking, as during the day the heat of the stove is thelast straw.

  When we wrote back and begged for the rice recipe, Patience replied in part:

  It is the same as the one forpeperonata in Honey from a Weed, with the addition ofriso per risotto … only that this summer I use red andgreen [instead of yellow] Italian peppers (cheerful colours) and owing to the drought they are not large (stretch thumb and middle finger for length). When the rice is initially stirred it is coated with the olive oil and juices from the quietly cooking peppers and onion. The addition of the water to the tomato pulp should be sufficient to arrive atriso al dente.