the risotto recipe

i'm not really sure how it happened, but one day, more or less a year after i moved to england, i discovered my friends regarded risotto as my signature dish. it's true, i cook a lot of different risotti, for myself and my friends.

when i was little, my sincere dislike of all things vegetables forced my mum to be very inventive in disguising peas, artichokes, leeks and radicchio in colourful dishes so that i wouldn't grow up with a chronic vitamin deficiency. i now like vegetables and love cooking them, as they allow you to be a lot more creative than a steak or fillet of fish. however, i still enjoy cheating myself and hide my mushrooms or courgettes in a creamy, filling risotto.

after all, cooking risotto it's a pretty simple affair and i learnt pretty quickly after moving out of the maternal home and engaging in my hectic student life. nonetheless, a few people have asked me for a good risotto recipe, so i though i would share my classic one which, i must immodestly admit, never fails to impress.

a risotto can be made with almost any kind of vegetable...my favourites are the classic mushrooms, the summery courgette and shrimp combination, the wintery pumpkin and cinnamon. the procedure is the same for almost all kinds.

it all starts with some butter and olive oil in pan, to which i add some finely chopped onion. once the onion turns brown, i throw in the roughly chopped vegetables (and shrimp or ham or whatever i feel like) and fry them on low heat until they're reasonably soft. at this point, it's time to add the rice (half a glass of rice for each person, old grandma trick), pour a tablespoon of white wine on it and let it fry together with the veggies, stirring constantly for about a minute. then i start adding the vegetable stock, a glass at a time, stirring regularly, until the rice is perfectly cooked. which means soft, but not mushy. it usually takes about fifteen, twenty minutes.

as soon as the rice reaches its cooking point, preferably a minute before, i turn off the heat, add a generous amount of butter and grated parmesan, stir it lightly and let it sit for a minute or so. this last step, called “mantecare” in italian, is essential, as it ensures the risotto is creamy. however, it's very important not to let the rice sit for more than a minute as it becomes rapidly overcooked, mushy and sticky. which is definitely not what a risotto should be!

and i can finally serve it, grate some more parmesan on it, sit back, have a sip of white wine and enjoy it.

lantana

lantana

after a long spell of biting cold weather, the first signs of spring are appearing in london. in hyde park there is a patchy carpet of purple crocuses and on my kitchen table there is a glass bearing snowdrops from my flat mates garden. this saturday the sun made its grand appearance and was accompanied by slight warmth. i woke up to it licking the corners of my blinds demanding that i abandon my bed for a day of coffee and chitchats with my best girl friend. i reached over and called i and said, it gorgeous out, lets meet up for brunch and go exploring. for some time now i have been adding cafes and restaurants to a list in my red moleskin diary and lantana happened to be on that list. lantana is located off charlotte street in a little alley that is home to an italian delicatessen, a health food shop called peppercorns and a place that was advertising walk-in back rubs. a dark wood table and hollowed modern cubes of wood shaped into stools make up the front outdoor seating. the soundtrack for lantana is the sound of conversations bearing the stamp of their space on the map of the world. on the wall facing the entrance is painted a large monochromatic mural of flowers and foliage. 

the angelic

sunday afternoon found o and i at a gastro-pub in islington. the plan was for us to sit and read…o for leisure and me for this consultancy that is biting into my weekend relaxation time. a comfortable leather sofa bearing distress lines occasioned by frequent usage instantly invited us to it.  the angelic isn't a classic pub. to start with it is bright and airy with high ceilings and substantial windows. the furniture is light rather than a dark wood and the menu is a mélange of classic pub fare and creative tapas and entrees.

our order was preceded by a bread board – three slices of thick brown bread studded with olives and poppy seeds and a small bowl with olive oil with a centre of balsamic. o ordered the soup of the day – a heavy creamy broccoli soup that came served in a big bowl with a flourish of olive oil and a well dressed salad made up of  baby spinach, quails eggs with slightly quivery yolks and flakes of a firm white fish (i cannot recall the name).

i had mackerel fish cakes which were far from conventional and very good. the fish cake was a combination of mackerel, some butternut squash and mashed egg encased in a crisp skin of bread crumbs. it was fired to a golden brown crispness and arrived on a bed of seasoned boiled vegetables. the broccoli was fresh spring green and retained its shape showing that it had been thoughtfully boiled. there were carrots cut on a slant and some boiled radishes – a very welcome change from potatoes. to add a tangy sweet flavor there was beetroot relish that left wonderful deep pink-red streaks on the white ceramic plate. a squiggle of horseradish cause ran along one side of the plate. combined together, the flavors were excellent. 

after a while a refreshing kiwi daiquiri appeared which turned out to be a surprise order for me. i couldn't resist stealing bites of o's steamed pudding with orange sauce. elsewhere around the pub people were tucking into sunday roasts that looked as tempting as they smelled. i take we will have to return to sample the sunday menu, perhaps on a day when i can just relax and not work.

breakfast at ottolenghi

ottolenghi, islington

mum and h and i went to ottolenghi for breakfast today. it is perhaps one of the most serene eateries i know off and i suspect it owes itself to the simplicity of its lines and the whiteness of its walls. all accents of color are attributed to the foods that flank either side of the entrance. large shallow terracotta bowls hold salad creations that are medley of color and taste – flat overlapping arrangements of seared meats both white and red are laid out to one side. the other side is taken up by a display of desserts, each of them beautifully crafted and tantalizing to the taste buds. otto’s signature meringues streaked with berries and chocolate are stacked high and rise about the cakes, tarts and muffins. a blackboard sports a colorfully written menu. there are shelves that house the condiments range – jars of preserves and bottles of oil.

whilst waiting for h to arrive mum and i ordered americano coffee, a rich dark roast served hot with hot milk. on the dining tables of otto sit little square wooden boards upon which are little glass jars bearing butter, preserves and chocolate spread studded with nuts. with h’s arrival came the order for breakfast. a bread plate bearing a slice of plain sourdough, sourdough with sour cherries and a cinnamon pretzel as the almond croissants were finished. a savory side of portobello mushrooms with crumbled feta trundled along at some point, their blackish brown juices with lines of olive oil and a fleck of green herbs gathering in the centre of the plate they were served on. the bread was lovely untoasted and one of the glass jars produced a lovely caramelized banana jam which i fell in love with. the raspberry preserves were excellent too.

 in a rather bizarre end to brunch we ordered a slice of chocolate rum fondant cake – a very luxurious and rich concoction of dark chocolate, heavy cream and a rounding note of rum that enclosed all the flavors of the dessert with a perfection that is classical of ottolenghi. each and every ottolenghi creation i have sampled is a testimony to the ability of both these cooks to create food that is a treat of flavors that reveal themselves collectively and yet do not get eclipsed individually. 

my first (and only?) gordon ramsay experience

deciding where to have my graduation dinner was a big (and painful) deal. wanting to treat myself and my proud family to some luxury and prove my foodie italian dad that english food has come a long way since fish and chips, i searched the net incessantly for weeks, reading reviews and dissecting menus in the attempt to find the “perfect place”. it was all in vain, after all, i always knew i really, really wanted to go to one of gordon ramsey’s restaurants. i was a bit ashamed to admit it, as i was obviously judging him based on his tv appearances rather than any real knowledge of his culinary abilities, but in the end i gave in to my hidden desires and booked a table at boxwood cafè, berkley hotel in knightsbridge.

i was not disappointed, and neither was my family. the boxwood cafè didn’t resemble a cafè at all, but rather the classy and sophisticated restaurant i was dreaming of. the service was impeccable, as one would expect, so the only little thing i could really complain about was the loud clientele, mainly suited businessmen letting their hair down after a long day of financial frustrations. but i didn’t let that spoil my perfect evening.

the bread basket, accompanied by delicate butter and a smooth taramasalata, stimulated our appetite as we carefully inspected the menu and chose among the few, but all so tempting, dishes on offer. my mum and i chose a bizarre appetiser combining foie gras, brioche, pear and apricots. an explosion of flavours that left us very satisfied, if a bit less eager to savour our equally tempting main courses. dad had a modern version of cheviche and grandma a managed to order an onion soup that looked as sophisticated as oyster and caviar.

for the main, i went for pan-fried sea bass on a bed of steamed leeks and clams. the flavours were so delicate and perfectly combined that i only noticed at the very last bite how full i was, while trying to squeeze in one of my mum’s delicious salt-and-pepper tiger prawns. everyone around the table was sincerely elated by the quality and originality of the food, so that we couldn’t really say “no” to the dessert menu. my pear and almond tart was to die for, especially thanks to the bayleaf custard accompanying it, but i couldn’t keep my eyes off my dad’s tarte tatin, apparently the best he had every tried.

my reserves in choosing a tv chef for one of the most important nights of my life were luckily shattered by the amazing quality of ramsay’s boxwood cafè. i’m sure london’s full of classy, fancy, slightly pretentious restaurants catering to wealthy businessmen and their guests, but at boxwood the highlight is, without any doubt, the amazing food. it is an absolute pleasure to find delicious british food and prove all those grumpy foreign critics wrong. i just wish i could afford gordon’s treats more than once in a lifetime.