9/04/11 And the Winner Was…

Since dinner for the last four nights had included risotto, it was only fitting that my mother ranked them and declared a winner.

In fourth place, the mushroom risotto form Julio’s wedding.  Like much food intended to be consumed by the masses, it lacked flavour and had way too much bite…or “pasta” as zia Maria called it…in the centre.  It must have been intentional since they had plenty of time to prepare it.  Zia said it was because the Romanians in the kitchen didn’t know what they were doing.  Notice that my zia confined her judgment of the Romanians’ skills to the domain of the kitchen…there’s probably a lot of Romanians on the sides of the Friulano highways that do know what they’re doing.   In fact, I’ve been told (informally of course) that Romanians of the female variety have a skill set appreciated by the superficial man who may or may not spend time (and money) in “gentlemen’s clubs”.  However, it’s only proper that I reveal I have no personal knowledge of this; it’s third party information.

Rungs above the Romanian risotto by way of Italy were the dishes offered by Egidio and Donata, and Gino and Rita.  Both were very good, so it would be a coin toss to choose one over the other.  Funny thing about the meal at Egidio and Donata’s house… she had made some of the best meatballs I had ever eaten, but was coy about the recipe.  With a little prodding from mom and me, she gave up the ingredients; or at least most of them.  She held something back, one ingredient or method that we couldn’t quite put our finger on.  She wouldn’t admit it, but the smiles on the faces of her family indicated that she had played this game before.  The truth is that every cook is entitled to their secrets.  I have some of my own kitchen secrets, and my mom has a lifetime’s worth; mainly because she makes things differently each time.  It’s a trait I’ve inherited; we call it “the art of cooking”.

First place went to my zia Maria whose risotto was perfectly cooked; creamy with a subtle bite and an intense perfume of mushrooms.  When informed of her “win”, zia acknowledged it in her typical matter of fact fashion.  “Of course it was.  When you take the time to do things properly, they turn out well”.  No glory, no fanfare.  Just forty-five minutes of constant stirring and a job well done.