Where You Been, Making Risotto?

Wow...it has been over a week since my last post. What am I lazy or something? No, not really, as I've been blogging for the last week over at eGullet and we (my friends and I) did one heckuva job. I mean really blogging; taking pictures and writing about every damn thing that crossed my lips...and then some. It's hard to do. A lot of work. I'm sure glad I don't do that here.

However, some of it was so good that I figured I 'd share with you. And I'm starting with rice. Well...risotto to be more precise. In the past, I used only arborio rice to make risotto; now it depends on what type of risotto I'm cooking. However, if you only want to keep 1 type of risotto rice on hand, my go-to is carnaroli rice...it works well for all styles of risotto and doesn't overcook as easily as the others.

Since we were engaged in a little competition, we all had the same ingredients to make a meal with. I had a good pound of baby artichokes (which aren't really babies, but that's another story altogether), a bunch of spring onions and a quart of homemade chicken stock in the freezer. Sure, you can use canned or boxed (Swanson's Low Sodium; Pacific) chicken stock, but will it ever be as good as homemade? No. You can even make you're own vegetable stock if you're a...gasp...vegetarian; that's easy and only takes an hour. If you're a vegan, well - work on that yourself. Pantry wise, I always have Parmesan cheese, and really - you don't need much else. Salt & pepper - of course.

I wanted something a little special for the garnish (it was a competition, after all), so after cleaning the artichokes, I frizzled them. Okay, deep fried...

Then I proceeded to make the risotto. First, sweat (which means to lightly fry without getting the vegetables all brown) the onions and artichokes in butter and olive oil till they're soft, then add the rice till it's translucent...

Then add 1/2 cup wine, and continue making the risotto...you know, waiting until each addition of stock is absorbed before you add more and stirring a lot...

The final step in making a risotto is generally adding the cheese and sometimes more butter. I try to be a little judicious, only because. So, when the risotto is almost done to your liking - you're tasting it, aren't you? - turn off the heat. Then add the cheese. If it gets too tight, a little more stock can't hurt; it will get absorbed, and it's why I start with at least 4 times the amount of stock vs. rice.

I like to serve the risotto in bowls, garnished with a little finely minced parsley and those frizzled baby artichoke hearts. It's so good...

Oh - make enough for leftovers, which make awesome risotto pancakes.

Baby Artichoke and Spring Onion Risotto - serves 2 with leftovers

1 C Carnaroli rice

4 C stock (chicken preferred, vegetable okay)

1/2 C dry white wine

1 T butter and olive oil ( or 2 T of one or the other, I don't care)
1 lb. baby artichokes, cleaned and sliced

1 bu. spring onions (or 1 medium onion, diced)

1 C grated Parmersan

2 T Italian parsley

Make risotto. Some directions are above.

It's Not Nice To Fool Mother Nature

I'm sure you all...okay, some of you...remember that great ad campaign which ran for almost 10 years back in the '70s. It featured Mother Nature (or an actor portraying her) getting all pissed off when she's fooled by the taste and texture of a certain product.

And I'm sure you all...okay, some of you...remember a blog I wrote a while back about trying to get Significant Eater to eat her oatmeal...well, I didn't have much success then, but that doesn't mean I don't get to keep trying.

In another one of my vain attempts to get SE to eat some healthy cereals, today I tried a new approach with a cereal she really doesn't like. That be this stuff...

I've stopped making it when we have breakfast together, since it undoubtedly will just sit in the bowl; oh, it gets pushed around enough, but eaten? No way.

So, in my sneaky, underhanded mind I figured there had to be a way. And the aha moment came when I simply read the side of the package and decided to use one of these...

I mixed up the batter (it's a quick bread, but you knew that) and glopped it into the cups...

Baked 'em for about 17 minutes and they looked like this...

And this...

Not bad looking, huh? And guess what - they didn't taste bad. I mean, how bad could they be? After all, they do have sugar and salt in them, along with a little vanilla.

Interesting then, that the first thing I heard from the other room, as Significant Eater was downing her half, was something along the lines of: "So what are these, health muffins? Stick with the cookies, will ya!?"

It's not nice to fool mother nature, now is it? Or Significant Eater either.

Birthday Boyz

I grew up on Long Island - and let's use that term (grew up) rather loosely, because, like all guys of a certain age, we think/hope/pray? that we're a lot younger than we really are. Be that as it may, it was a pretty good upbringing...I mean other than the funny accent, Long Island wasn't too bad a place to grow up. The beach was close (it IS a friggin' island, after all), the "city" was close, my schools were minutes away, there were cool cars (I actually had a '63 Chevy that rocked), there were Jack-in-the-Boxes, there was Nathan's in Oceanside, there were drive-in movies that showed porn - in general, not too bad.

And then there were the boyz. You see, we moved to Long Island when I started the 4th grade and was about 9 years old; I say moved because we had lived in Forest Hills, which is in Queens and which is part of New York City, so people don't think of it as Long Island, but go look at a map - it's part of Long Island no matter how you slice or dice it. Anyway, back to the boyz.

Starting in the 4th grade, I began to form friendships and bonds that are still intact. There are a good dozen or so guys (and throw in a few gals as well) whom I am in contact with and see on a regular basis. In the group some guys are closer to others, some couples are closer to others, but all in all, the friendships are mighty strong. I mean, I moved to California, stayed for 18 years and then returned, and the bonds are as strong as they ever were...maybe even more so as we...ahem...grow up.

Calling ourselves the boyz came early on. Maybe we watched too many gangster movies (yeah, they were called gangster movies, not gangsta); they were the real tough guys. The Godfather came out the year I graduated from high school, but there were plenty of Bogart and Edward G. Robinson movies before that - and don't tell me they couldn't have kicked Biggie's or Tupac's asses, just like Corleone would have. So everyone had a nickname even though most of us were nebbishy jewish kids; and even though there was no baby-face or scar-face, as a group, we were and still are, till this day: the boyz.

So why do I wax nostalgic about all this crap? Well, this month we start wishing each other, like we have for 40 or so years, a happy birthday. Only this year, it's different.

Why? Because two months ago, we lost one of our boyz...and he was the one who was the glue that pretty much kept us all together, with semi-annual poker games (did I tell you about the time we were all smoking cigars and his wife Ro came home early? Well, that was the last time we smoked cigars in their house), trips to Vegas or the Mohegan Sun, barbecues, and on and on.

Yep, our friend Ron passed on, after a long-time battle against kidney disease. And I say battle in a good way; no one should have to go through what Ron did, but he always did it with grace and aplomb. Ron liked to complain about everyday things same as we all do - he was almost as curmudgeonly as me - but he never complained about the hand he was dealt (except sometimes in those all-night poker games we boyz engaged in) when it came to his health. Nope - he would have none of that. He lived every day like it counted and like it might be his last; that's a lesson I know all the boyz learned from Ron over the years. He enjoyed every sandwich and every roll of the dice. All his time with his family; his great wife (also a high school friend of mine) and great kids. The little things. The things we often take for granted. It's easy to say we won't, but we will...we always do. We should just try not to.

Anyway - today is Ron's birthday, and I've shed a tear or two. It's another of the boyz' birthdays as well. I've already wished Morris (a nickname, don't you know?) a happy birthday. This is for Ron, who for sure is in a good place. Thanks for the good times and the memories, pal. The boyz won't ever forget.