My Dad’s Risotto con Porcini

Tags

mushroom risotto, porcini mushroom risotto, porcini mushrooms, risotto, risotto con porcini, vegetarian risotto

Having been pretty much raised by my dad, most of what I know about Neopolitan food comes from him. My mom passed away when I was 8 years old, which left my father to raise 3 children on his own. Having lived most of his life being cared for by either his own mother or his wife, he suddenly found himself on the other side of the table. Not knowing much about cooking, he had no choice but to jump in blindly and make sure we were fed. And fed we were!

He was an amazing cook. Truly. I can clearly remember his oh, so delicious stuffed peppers, which to this day I cannot seem to recreate. Perhaps I’m chasing a futile memory. And his lasagne. He would wake up early Sunday morning to make his tomato sauce. Then he would patiently roll tiny little meatballs to fill his lasagne with. Out of this world! I’m not sure how he managed to make such delicious food and I was too young to realize at the time what an undertaking this must have been for him. Fortunately, he was able to retire in his early 40’s to take care of me. I say fortunately, but it did come at a price. Having left Italy after World War II to work in the coal mines of Belgium, he was able to receive a substantial Belgian pension all because of his sick lungs.

One of my favourite dishes that my dad made was his Risotto con funghi Porcini. Porcini mushroom risotto. I’m not sure how he came to make such a delicious Northern Italian dish, but oh man it was good! So much so that I would request that dish as my birthday meal time and time again. It was the last birthday meal he made for me, when I was pregnant with my first, before he passed away. In my mind, I never imagined my dad not being there. I took it for granted that he would always make his risotto for me and therefore I never learned how he made it. Lucky for me though, my hubby did. Hubby would sit at the kitchen table and watch my father make his risotto. He watched and took notes of everything my dad did, timing his every move. And I am ever so thankful. It was hubby who took over with the making of this favourite dish of mine. There were many birthdays that I requested this dish and hubby came through every time. Funny thing is, I never made this dish myself. I can’t explain why. It’s my comfort dish. And I think it was all the more comforting because it was made by my dad, and then my hubby. Last night, I finally came around and decided to have a go at it. And you wouldn’t believe what hubby said. “Wow! It’s better than the one I make. Your dad would be really proud!”.

My Dad’s Risotto con Porcini

4 or 5 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil

1 yellow onion, minced

2 or 3 shallots, minced

Dry porcini mushrooms, a small handful

2 cups of Arborio, Carnaroli or Vialone Nano rice

½ cup or so of white wine

6 to 7 cups of chicken stock, warm

1 cup of grated Parmigiano Reggiano, maybe a little more

Salt & pepper to taste

A few notes on the ingredients. You can use frozen porcini if they’re available, although I found them to be nowhere as flavourful as the dried porcini. If you’re lucky enough to have fresh porcini where you live, by all means use them.

I mentioned 6 to 7 cups of warm chicken stock. Because I use the soaking water of the porcini mushrooms, which I encourage you to do seeing as all the mushroom flavour is in there, I really only needed about 6 cups of stock. My theory when it comes to cooking with wine: use one good enough that you would drink. Trust me when I say there’s nothing better than having a glass of wine while making this risotto as you pretty much need to hover over it and constantly be stirring. It’s really not that bad if you’re sipping a good wine! My dad made his own wine and therefore used his, which was a heavy-bodied wine. I use whatever white wine I have on-hand, which this time around happened to be a BC Chardonnay from the Okanagan Valley, Mission Hill.

Begin by soaking the dry porcini mushrooms in a small bowl with about 3/4 cup to 1 cup of warm water. Let soak for about 15 minutes and then chop the mushrooms, reserving the mushroom water.

In a medium-sized pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat and add the onion and shallots. Sauté for about 5 minutes. Stir in the mushrooms, and then add the rice, stirring, ensuring that it gets coated with oil.

After about 3 minutes, add the white wine and stir. Wait until it has been absorbed by the rice, and then add the mushroom water. Once that has been absorbed, begin to add the warm chicken stock, ½ cup at a time. My ladle holds about ½ of liquid so it worked out perfectly. As you add your ½ cup of stock, you do need to keep stirring. I mean you need to constantly keep stirring, until the liquid has been absorbed. Continue to add ½ cup of stock at a time, stirring constantly, until the rice mixture is creamy and al dente. This will happen after about 6 cups of stock, but do check it after 5 ½ cups.

Once it’s done, al dente, remove from heat and stir in the parmesan. Check for salt and season with pepper. Serve immediately, sprinkled with freshly grated parmigiano over the top. Oh, so cheesy-creamy yummy! Mmmm!

A Tribute to Marcella Hazan with Risotto alla Milanese

Tags

Marcella Hazan, risotto, risotto alla milanese, saffron rice, tribute Marcella Hazan

“Nothing significant exists under Italy’s sun that is not touched by art.  Its food is twice blessed because it is the product of two arts, the art of cooking and the art of eating.  While each nourishes the other, they are in no way identical accomplishments.  The art of cooking produces the dishes, but it is the art of eating that transforms them into a meal.”       Marcella Hazan

Photo courtesy of epicurious.com

Marcella Hazan, a giant in the world of Italian cooking, has died at the age of 89. Just like Elizabeth David introduced the U.K. to Italian food and Julia Child brought French cuisine to America, Marcella Hazan was renowned as the Godmother of Italian regional cooking in America, with particular attention to northern Italy.

According to Marcella, “the first useful thing to know about Italian cooking is that, as such, it doesn’t really exist. ‘Italian cooking’ is an expression of convenience rarely used by Italians. The cooking of Italy is really the cooking of its regions, regions that until 1861 were separate, independent, and usually hostile states.”

Born in the Italian region of Emilia-Romagna, Marcella graduated with a doctorate in natural sciences and biology. After marrying Victor Hazan, who was born in Italy but raised in New York, Marcella moved to the U.S. in 1955. Feeding her husband true Italian meals became her passion. Her career in teaching and writing about Italian food began when she was 49 years old. Proof that you can realize your dreams at any age. She had signed up for a Chinese cooking class, and one day, after the instructor had cancelled the class, her fellow classmates asked Marcella to teach them how to cook real Italian food instead. And thus began her illustrious career.

She began offering cooking classes from her apartment in New York City, proving that the only way to cook Italian was with fresh and simple ingredients. Together with her husband Victor, she went on to open a cooking school in Bologna.  Discovering that her students had no idea what good olive oil truly tasted like, or fresh eggs, freshly picked fruits and vegetables, the flavour of fresh and varied seafood, she decided that taking the students directly to the source was the best way to learn about regional Italian cooking. She then went on to open a school in Venice. And then came the cookbooks. Six of them. All classics. Written entirely in Italian and translated by her partner in life and in business, Victor. On Sunday, after Marcella had passed away peacefully, Victor Hazan wrote on Facebook: “Marcella, my incomparable companion, died this morning a few steps away from her bed. She was the truest and best, and so was her food.”

Photo courtesy of huffingtonpost.com

She had this way of writing. Almost bossy. Harsh even. And that was one of the things I loved about her. Her writing. Commanding that I do just as she says because that’s how it’s supposed to be done. And somehow, her prickliness was a comfort to me. I knew that I was in good hands and doing things properly. I always knew that by following Marcella, my dish would be remarkable. Take salt as an example. She urged her readers to use more salt in their foods, advising them that if they were so concerned about salt affecting their life expectancy, then to “not read any further.” Or her take on garlic. “The unbalanced use of garlic is the single greatest cause of failure in would-be Italian cooking. It must remain a shadowy background presence. It cannot take over the show.” And like my dad, Marcella certainly had no qualms about using an abundance of olive oil and butter. The more, the tastier!

It was from Marcella that I picked up a lot of my own cooking techniques. My Ragu Bolognese is credited to her. As is my Lasagne Bolognese. Fresh pasta. Gnocchi. Veggies and meat. And to pay tribute to her, I thought I’d try a dish of hers that I’d never had before. Risotto alla milanese, from her book “The Classic Italian Cookbook, The art of Italian cooking and the Italian art of eating”.

Ingredients for 6 

1 quart/4 cups of chicken broth

2 tablespoons of pancetta, finely chopped

2 tablespoons of finely chopped shallots, or yellow onion

5 tablespoons of butter

2 tablespoons of olive oil

2 cups of of Italian Arborio rice

1/2 teaspoon of chopped whole saffron, dissolved in 1 1/2 cups of hot broth

Salt, if necessary

Freshly ground pepper

1/2 cup of grated Parmesan

Bring the broth to a slow, steady simmer.

In a heavy-bottomed casserole over medium-high heat, sauté the pancetta and shallots in 3 tablespoons of butter and all of the olive oil.

After about 5 minutes, add the rice and stir until well coated. Toast the rice for a few minutes and then add 1/2 cup of broth, about a ladleful.

Continue to add a ladleful of broth as the rice dries out, stirring almost constantly so the rice does not stick to the bottom. After 15 minutes, add half of the dissolved saffron. When the rice has dried out, add the remainder of the saffron. And here is classic Marcella: “Herbs that call too much attention to themselves are a rude intrusion upon the general harmony of a dish, but if you like a stronger saffron presence wait another 5 to 8 minutes before adding the diluted saffron. But be careful it doesn’t upstage your risotto.” Needless to say, I did as I was told.

When the saffron liquid has been absorbed, finish cooking the risotto with the hot broth. (If you run out of broth, add water.) When the rice is done, tender but al dente, firm to the bite, taste for salt. (Remember that you will be adding 1/2 cup of cheese.) Add a few twists of pepper to taste, and turn off the heat. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter and the Parmesan cheese, and mix thoroughly. Spoon into a plate and serve immediately, with freshly grated cheese.

And to finish, here’s another classic Marcella: “Once risotto is made, it must be served. It cannot be warmed up. If absolutely necessary, however, you can partially cook it several hours ahead of time. This is an unorthodox method, but…” Oh Marcella! You will be missed!