I know nothing about Italian cooking.
Well, let me qualify that with this: I know nothing about Italian cooking as it occurs in Italian homes, as true Italians practice it, or even as supposedly “authentic” restaurants interpret it. All I know about Italian cooking I learned from the back of a risotto box. And some books and other stuff, you know, relatively minor compared to the instructions from supermarket Arborio rice.
When I cook risotto, I follow a fluid procedure, one loosely derived from the broken English instructing me to not “drow [sic] the rice.” Give onions a little color, add the rice and saute it dry, then slowly, ever so gently add liquid and allow each grain to swell near to bursting before pouring in more stock, always stirring, stirring stirring stirring.
Yes, I’m using an oven mitt. Don’t ask why. Continue reading