Rice Tales

There's no good rice in Italy, I would moan. It was all pizza and pasta. I would stock up my backpack with Camargue wild rice and packs of Uncle Ben's long grain. As far as I was concerned Italian rice was sticky and gloopy and best left alone.I had of course completely forgotten childhood dishes of ossobuco with its delicious saffron coloured creamy rice.

Uncle Ben's was a favourite because it really did cook as indicated by the instructions on the packet. However, with the passage of time it dawned on me that in a country which thrived on a selection of two types of first course namely pasta-based or rice-based, there had to be some pretty good quality rice about the place. There was.

The flat foggy plains of Padania, fiefdom of the Lega Nord (Northern League - a nationalist political party) were full of the stuff, as were the foothills of the Alps and the lowlands of the Veneto. Rice was everywhere.

And of every kind. There were the Arborio and Carnaroli types, both good for risottos though it seemed the Arborio type was the best for optimal mantecatura. There was the Roma type (for salads), Baldi and Ribe, as well as Nero Venere and others. The more I looked the more there were. Riso Gallo (the cockerel) is the brand which seems to dominate the market.

The most obvious uses of rice are for the risottos which can go from the plain bianco (cooked in broth with butter and parmesan to finish) to far more complex dishes containing meat and vegetables or maybe with shaved truffles on top, from family cooking to higher end gourmet dishes.
Just as long as the rice isn't scotto, over-cooked (ie a mushy mess) all is well.

Key to a successful risotto is the final mantecatura. That final addition of butter which melts into the just done rice to give it that perfect creamy texture. I watched, fascinated, as a TV chef demonstrated the procedure. The rice had been absorbing broth in time honoured fashion for the required 15 to 20 minutes with the requisite amount of stirring, now was the time for the final touch.

He slashed a corner of butter (btw Italian butter is no way as good as French butter) and dropped it into the pipping hot rice. It melted in seconds, he deftly seized the skillet and jerked it back and forth creating a wave (un onda). It was a thing of beauty. The white rice rose upwards along the edge of the skillet and fell back in a perfect wave as the the butter was mixed into the wet rice. He shook the skillet again and the rice obeyed in picture perfect mode.


Attempts to repeat the move in my own kitchen have been less than perfect. Firstly, the skillet is too heavy so I have to seize it with two hands which limits mobility. And while the wave will rise it rarely falls where it's supposed to. I'm happy with a wavelet, a ripple on the pond of my rice. The taste is aways great.

Rice isn't only for risottos (surely the plural should be risotti?), it is also the star in Roman suppli's (balls of rice with a mozzarella centre), in Sicilian arancine (orange-sized deep-fried balls of rice stuffed with fresh peas, or ragu and cheese) and various types of timballi (moulded rice cakes stuffed with vegetables, cheese and meat) such as the Neapolitan Sartu, usually served on special occasions. In the summer, cold rice salads (made with the appropriate salad rice) served with pickled vegetables (giardiniera) are curiously popular.

Timballo di riso e melanzane

Risotto con romanesca