The white paper bag rustles as a hand gropes around inside. A fistful of dried porcini emerges, filling the tiny kitchen with the smell of damp earth and funk.
Two women, close friends who have not seen each other for a few months, cook lunch before a long walk. Long, brittle chips with the grain of walnut veneer are dropped into a bowl of warm water to bask and flex. Hearts and minds engage
December 23, 2019
The Quest
Romantic as it sounds, I have never foraged for porcini mushrooms in the forests near my home after the autumn rains, as invading a Ligurian neighbour’s byzantine boundaries is the perfect way to get your tires slashed.
There are plenty of porcini to buy in the markets in Levanto, but I prefer to make an annual pilgrimage to Chiavari to stock up on the dried ones, as this town offers the finest gastronomy on the coast.
There are no foreign tourists on the streets during the Christmas season, only hoards of Italians who come to size up the countless shops under the ancient arches. They may be shopping for gifts, but my mission is entirely selfish. Like loyal dogs, Peter and I instinctively re-trace our steps back to the shops that we know and love, and by noon, the car is stuffed with heavy boxes of wine, oil, dried beans, and biscotti.
Hands free, we stop for coffee and cakes at the Gran Caffe Defilla, then continue to roam the streets. The family shop where we have bought porcini for decades has been bolted up, without the usual going out of business sign. We are disappointed, but know that Chiavari will not let us down.
Finally, we enter a fruit and vegetable shop on the Via Nino Bixio that boasts a pungent burlap bag filled to the brim with excellent wares. The shop owner is delighted to sell us 200 grams. They will need to be eaten quickly, but I have plenty of friends who will appreciate a little bag when I get home.
Feldmeilen, January 29, 2020
Today, the dried porcini from Chiavari that Sylvie and I will feast upon are at their peak, and need no more than a 15 minute soak to soften and give up their musky scent.
By March, they will be slouching towards middle age. Their funk, more potent, will casually cancel out the subtle forest notes, like a man who has re-sprayed his perfume before the drydown has disappeared.
By May, their bodies will stiffen and shrink, their skins will wrinkle, and the liquid they produce after a 30-minute soak will be dark, like bile in a bedpan. What they excrete will not taste bad. The result will just be reminiscent of those porcini you buy in a, ahem….upmarket food hall.
Hence the rush to use my stash before spring.
The Recipe
Notes
Cooking a risotto is similar to riding a bike. We overthink it until we find our balance, then tear through the wind and never look back.
I am not here with the latest hack or embellishments, just a classic risotto made with dried porcini. However, if you are lucky and have young ones, your other ingredients had better be worthy, or you will be wasting your time. Here are a few tips that I have learnt along the way:
On ratios and portions
Rice to broth ratio: No matter what quantities you cook, you will need approximately 4 to maximum 5 times more broth than your rice.
80 g of rice will give you a generous portion for one person. 60 g of rice is enough if you are serving your risotto as a “primo”.
On the rice
Arborio or Carnaroli are what you need. I prefer Carnaroli, as it gives a less pasty result than Arborio.
On Butter
There is a saying in Lombardy, “If you don’t want to use butter, do not make risotto.” This is partly true. However, your risotto will immediately be more unctuous if you use a homemade chicken or beef broth, due to the gelatinous texture in the liquid. You will need less butter at the end to give your risotto its desired silken texture.
On Chicken or Meat Broth
The Italians use broth, not stock. Just make up a light broth with your meat, bones and vegetables. I would avoid adding herbs such as bay leaves or thyme, as they are too strong and could overpower the delicate taste of the porcini.
On Vegetable Broth
A quick vegetable broth is absolutely fine, no matter how simple. In fact, Ligurian cooks favour them when making a porcini risotto, as they want the taste of the boletus to shine.
Just simmer together: one onion, one carrot, one stalk of celery, one leek, a pinch of salt and a generous handful of white button mushrooms for 30 to 45 minutes. (A pressure cooker will get the job done in 10 minutes.) Stock cubes are forbidden.
On wine
Marcella Hazan never uses wine in any of her risotto recipes, which has always mystified me. I, like most people, enjoy the acidity of white wine in this dish. Red wine is too strong.
On the cheese
By default, one immediately recommends a Parmigiano Reggiano. However, the chef Giorgio Locatelli, in his excellent book “Made in Italy”, advises cooks to use the Grana Padana, as it is milder and its bite is less distracting. He may have a point, and I will experiment with this and get back to you at a later date. I find it important to add only a small handful of cheese while I am beating in the butter at the end, and then I do not encourage people to add more at the table. Too much of a good thing can ruin this dish.
List of Ingredients
Serves two hungry Women
15 to 20 g dried porcini mushrooms (older ones will be stronger tasting)
Approx. 40 g of butter
2 tablespoons light olive oil
1 shallot, finely chopped
500 ml to 75 ml of broth, (chicken, meat or vegetable)
25 to 40 g of butter, room temperature
2 tablespoons light olive oil
1 small handful of cheese (Pamigiano Reggiano or Grana Padana)
salt, if needed
A few grinds of pepper
The Method
Soak the mushrooms in enough water to cover, for 15 minutes if they are relatively young, or at least 30 minutes if they are older. After the liquid turns dark, gently lift the softened porcini out and rinse them under the tap to remove any eventual dirt.
Slowly strain the liquid through a fine sieve into a generous sized saucepan. Add the broth and bring the liquid to a gentle simmer.
Get ready to stir your risotto constantly for approx. 25 minutes to 30 minutes. Accept that there are no shortcuts here. Put on some music, pour yourself a glass of wine, and relax.
Take a heavy bottomed casserole and heat it over medium-high heat. With a wooden spatula, sauté the shallot in 1 tablespoon of the butter and all the oil until it is translucent. Add the rice and stir until it is well coated and lightly “toasted”, then add the wine. Continue to stir until all liquid the wine has evaporated.
Now take a ladleful of simmering broth and add it to the rice. Continue to stir until the rice absorbs the liquid. Add another ladleful of broth and continue to stir, constantly. Repeat the process. After around 15 minutes, add the softened porcini.
Do not stop stirring. The grains of rice will swell, but will still be chalky inside. After around 20 minutes, the rice will not absorb the broth so readily. Keep on adding the broth, but reduce the amount to half a ladleful in order not to flood the risotto.
Forget about the clock and observe. The grains should be creamily bound together, neither dry nor runny. Taste. They should be tender, but still “al dente”. Once it is ready, you will know. Lower the heat to a minimum. Add the butter and the grated cheese and rapidly beat for approximately one more minute. This final “mantecatura” will make the risotto rich and sumptuous.
Serve immediately without taking any pictures. Risotto waits for no man.