A Simple Recipe for Risotto and Existential Anguish
This classic technique is a staple for a reason
Risotto is one of those dishes that has a reputation for being fancy and finicky, but it’s actually one of my go-to weeknight meals when I just need to pull something together with the things I have on hand. I keep short-grain rice, chicken stock, and a block of parmesan available at all times, so there’s really no thinking required. It’s easy to add protein or vegetables to make it a more well-rounded meal. With this technique (adapted from Adam Ragusea’s risotto technique) it’s pretty much foolproof, and only takes about thirty minutes, and the strain on my general well-being is mostly psychological; it’s only related to my own capacity for frustration, my constant reach for over-achievement, a relentless quest for perfection, and an inability to be satisfied with simple things. My fiancée usually loves it, or at least she says she does, even if it’s just to spare my feelings (even when it is obvious that the rice is undercooked or that I boiled too much of the water out so that it became like wet concrete once the cheese was added in), so it’s guaranteed to be a crowd pleaser.
Ingredients
Makes one large portion or two small portions. With protein or vegetables added, makes two large portions.
1 cup arborio rice
1-2 shallots
2-4 cloves of garlic
Chicken or vegetable stock
White wine or white balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup freshly grated parmesan or parmigiano reggiano
A tendency to overthink things
Instructions
Get out a very wide pan and start heating a little olive oil. Dice your shallots and garlic real fine—I think it’s best if the aromatics basically dissolve into the dish. That’s why shallots work a lot better than normal onions for risotto. Get them in the oil and cook them off for just a minute or so, then add your rice. (Just in case you’re in the habit of washing your rice: do NOT wash your rice for this. You want that free starch coat to make it into the dish, that’s what gives risotto its luxurious sauce.) You can let the rice toast for a minute if you want, then dump in your white wine. I don’t usually keep white wine around, so a lot of the time I use a bit of white balsamic vinegar, and that works just fine, although it makes the result noticeably more vinegary. The wine will reduce down very quickly so get in there with enough stock to cover the rice and stir it up, making sure there isn’t any rice stuck to the bottom of the pan.
So tradition and most recipes will tell you that you need to have your stock simmering in a separate pan so that it’s already hot when you add it to your risotto, but that’s really not necessary. If you’re only making one or two portions at a time, and if you’re using a wide pan that’s already hot, the stock will come to a boil almost instantly, so there’s really nothing to worry about.
As the stock comes up to a simmer, grind in a decent amount of black pepper and any other flavorings you like. Personally, I like to keep the flavor profile of my risotto pretty minimal so that the parmesan and the wine or vinegar comes through. But you can do anything you want. Give the liquid a taste and add some salt if it needs it, but keep in mind that the cheese we’re adding later will be salty too.
If you want to add any protein or vegetables to your risotto, you can add them at this point as well. I like to throw in leftover chicken breast or some frozen peas and carrots. Mushrooms are of course classic. If you want your vegetables to stay firm, you can add them later. But note that if you want any browning on any of your additions, (e.g., if you didn’t already have some leftover chicken breast ready) you should do that before you start the risotto.
Then, you just need to keep stirring things to keep them from sticking to the bottom and cooking evenly, and keep an eye on the liquid. As soon as there’s not enough liquid in the pan to keep everything wet, add more. Most recipes will tell you to keep adding stock, so you’ll end up using a carton of stock or more, but I think that it makes the whole thing just taste like chicken, so I prefer to do stock at the beginning and then just use water the rest of the way. I think this produces a more balanced result.
While that’s going, think about your life. Why are you doing this? There’s so little time in the day, it’s 7 P.M. already, and you’re making this risotto because you saw the recipe and it sounded easy enough and you bought the fucking arborio rice and so now you may as well use it. But it won’t turn out perfectly, because some of the instructions are sort of vague, and even if it did, would you even be able to tell that it turned out perfectly? What’s risotto supposed to taste like, anyway? Would you notice every single extra bit of work you’re putting in? Would you taste the real garlic and the freshly ground pepper, and would it not have been better to use jarred garlic and the bottled black pepper, just to reduce the burden of the project, just so you didn’t have to peel the garlic cloves (oh my god, you hate doing that, it’s impossible to get all the peel off, and the peel just gets everywhere, that’s why you always just use the jarred garlic)? And whatever nuance of the dish comes through to you, all of it will probably be lost on whoever you’re feeding it to, your spouse or your kids. And it will only take about ten minutes to eat, then you’ll have to clean up, and that will take like thirty minutes. Then it will be almost 8. And you will be so tired, tired from a day of work, tired from trying out this new dish you’ve never made before, and tired from so much transitioning from one thing to the next, not to mention the things you try to mix in for your own well-being, like reading, and exercise, all of those things take time, and effort, too, so that there’s nothing left for the things that you actually want to do, or the things that replenish you, or even if there is time after 8 P.M. and before bed, you’re too tired from the planning and the transitioning—emotionally tired, cognitively tired—that you would rather just not do those things, and the only thing you manage to do is sit on the couch on your phone or watching TV; and maybe if you hadn’t tried to cook this risotto (who do you think you are, anyway?), and you had put a frozen pizza in the oven instead, you would feel energized enough to read a smart book or go for a run or play with your kids.
After about 15 or 20 minutes, start tasting a few grains of rice to test for doneness. This is really the only trick. You want to pull it off the heat just before the rice is completely soft, otherwise it will be a little too mushy. It’s still good when it’s overcooked, but it’s a lot better when the rice has some texture and tooth. And you want to make sure you have the right amount of moisture still in the pan. It shouldn’t be completely dry and tight—there needs to be enough moisture to suspend the cheese—but it shouldn’t be swimming either. This is why it’s best to add your liquid a little bit at a time. It’s better to be able to add a little more water at the end than to have to keep cooking to evaporate a bunch of water and risk overcooking the rice. But once you’re about there, pull the pan off the heat, and throw in the butter and the cheese. I think 1/4 cup cheese to 1 cup rice is about the right ratio, although you can feel free to experiment. And you can add as much butter as you want. More butter basically means a better-tasting risotto at the cost of a sooner death (but we’re all going to die someday). Stir all that up off the heat until it’s all melted and integrated. Serve with some extra freshly grated parmesan and some fresh herb if you’ve got any. Enjoy!