There’s a lot of food talk in this one. Fair warning.
For those of you who have been here since November last year (not here-here, this newsletter has been going for less than six months), you know I think I might be autistic. Part of the reason is that I have very clear ideas on change (it is bad) and don’t react well to plans shifting.
Me on a train? Fine as long as I’ve done it before. Me on a train where there’s a delay? You best believe I’m going to cry so hard there might not be any moisture left in my entire body! (are there coping strategies for this? I don’t know. I’ve only had the first stage of assessment on the NHS when they interview you and either go ‘she’s not autistic, she’s just odd’ or ‘she might be autistic, she needs a more in-depth interview’. The referrals for the next part of the service are currently paused due to the pandemic.)
Anyway, I also have foods that are safe. I can’t deal with chunky food, or food that’s a mixture of soft and crunchy, or too much flavour - it makes my ears hurt. When I was at primary school and hadn’t been diagnosed yet, I couldn’t ever eat the pizza topping because there was too much happening, and just ate the beige base. A lot of my favoured foods are beige.
This is a roundabout way of telling you my risotto is the perfect consistency, and the taste is subtle but apparently very nice. I’ve had people tell me it’s better than ones you get in restaurants (although that was just my dad, and he had one risotto in Zizzi where the rice was too hard in like 2011 and he’s never ordered risotto out since.)
And now it’s perfect, so I’m never changing the recipe ever.
THE PERFECT RISOTTO:
1 big onion
3 medium-big cloves of garlic
A pack of risotto rice
Chicken stock either bubbling in a saucepan or in a big jug; 2 cubes
White wine
Butter
Olive oil
Cooked chicken
Parmesan
Slice the onion into tiny pieces. I cut it in half and then chop almost to the root, then turn the onion on its side and slice down to create tiny squares of flavour. Crush the garlic with the flat of a knife, strip away the skin, and dice extremely finely.
Get butter and oil foaming together in a heavy-bottomed saucepan.
Add the onion and garlic. Stir around with a wooden spoon to make sure it all goes an even gold colour, and be prepared - there’s more stirring to do.
Add as much rice as you want. This needs to be stirred as well, to make a lovely butter-onion-rice smell rise and bloom in your kitchen.
Add the wine. This should hiss and bubble up ridiculously and make you feel very proud.
When you’ve stirred everything together and the wine has been soaked into the grains, add a splash of stock. The bubbling should happen again.
STIR. There is so much stirring. Choose a heavy wooden spoon. You need to release the starch from the rice to make the risotto nice and creamy, without adding cream. Do this until the stock has disappeared.
On the second adding of stock, add the finely chopped chicken. I mean, shred this down to bits, I cannot be clearer. Chunks of chicken ruin risotto. This meal is about comfort and knowing what’s coming, and being safe from any storm. No chunks.
Keep adding stock and stirring until the stock is almost gone and the rice is done.
Turn off the heat.
Add great handfuls of finely grated parmesan and a knob of butter, and slam the lid on like it’s the lid to Pandora’s box. This has to sit for exactly five minutes.
Use this time to get your table ready. A can of a fizzy drink is preferred, a wide bowl for eating the risotto, something fun to watch while you eat.
When five minutes have elapsed, stir again. Do you see your mistake if you picked a silicon stirrer? Only wood will do. You have to beat the parmesan and butter into the meal, creating something silken and lovely.
Serve. Enjoy.
My partner likes mozzarella in his risotto. I bore this with steely fortitude until my medical issues made me take three weeks off from food with any trace of fat in it. On the day I was told I was allowed small bits of fat in my diet, I said I wanted a risotto, and he said that he was on board but that we had no mozzarella. And it was then, dear reader, I managed to tell him that adding mozzarella went against all the rules of a good risotto and was over-egging the pudding.
He took it well.
I’m still figuring out what is safe now I’m eating around a gallstone removal. By necessity, I am eating less fat - just one unhealthy thing a day, as a no-fat diet means more gallstones get created (...fun) and more can block your bile duct and cause hideous pain. Fingers crossed I get a surgery date in the near future.
Christmas is gonna suck, foodwise, but it was gonna suck anyway because of coronavirus, so I’m at peace with it, I think. I hope if nothing else we can all have a peaceful rest of the year… chance would be a fine thing.
Links
He Married a Sociopath | New York Times
I was completely struck by this profile. The writer is a sociopath and feels she’s become a better human thanks to her husband, who is now lying to her over a work crush and potential affair. Like. The fuck. Read it, it’s honestly gobsmacking.
Sohla El-Waylly Goes Solo | Vulture
Internet sensation Bon Appetit video exploded this spring when it turned out the entire edifice was racist. Hands who was surprised? We can’t love anything anymore without knowing the other shoe’s going to drop. Anyway, Sohla, one of the chefs who blew the lid off the whole thing, is doing a lot of great stuff now and this interview is incredible as well as savage when it comes to fact-checking (the part about Chris Morocco which BA tried to deflect… woof.)
Why Millennials are Always Tired | GetPocket
This is a strange phenomenon I was glad to see being written about - as someone who’s solidly millennial and hasn’t had a good night of rest since 2013, why are we always tired? Turns out it’s a panicked reaction to our world being on fire.