The Signature Dish

“Up in the street I live the beat / I feel the heat from this concrete / I’ve been uptown and underground / on every block another sound / in NYC were free to do as we please and no one disagrees / we live the life that doesn’t sleep / we live a life that isn’t cheap / our high rise rent environment will get you spent and discontent/ bight lights/fast cars/ you gotta love the city life / high energy the place to be / you make it here you will agree/ You don’t see NYC like I see…like I see.”

You don’t see NYC - by Roxy Cottontail

I was a fidgety child. Sleep, apparently was just not my thing. Instead, I developed quite a fancy for jumping up and down in my crib. I wouldn’t sleep unless I was lulled by the steady movement of a vehicle or one of those swing contraptions. The second the swing or vehicle stopped I would wake up and shriek and thrash wildly. When I was sick as a toddler my sleep deprived parents could not get any reprieve. The tiny dropper of brandy my pediatrician suggested for an ear infection did not have the soporific effect he was hoping for. Instead, it just made me jump so high in my crib my parents said they were fearful I would bang my head on the ceiling.

My restless nature extended itself to other cringe inducing activities. It wasn’t enough for me to messily gum down morsels of food. Instead, I would grab chubby handfuls of whatever was on my plate and rub it in my curly blond hair. My mother, who lovingly took the time to make all of my baby food from scratch, would watch in horror as I would gleefully mash strained peaches in my hair. I ended up having to wear a bonnet for every meal until I was 3 years old. I do attribute my consistently shiny locks back to those days though.

My boundless energy seemed to fuel a passion for all experiences tactile. As a youngster I spent countless hours perched at my grandmas kitchen sink playing with soap suds. Different textures were absolutely fascinating to me. I would marvel at how dense and creamy chocolate pudding felt on my tongue and would recoil at the pudding “skin” I would peel off before digging in. I was enthralled at how my spoon would resist the sponginess of my grandma’s matzo balls (I never said I wasn’t a strange kid and yes, I did eat pats of butter for a snack). I loved play doh and finger-paints. I lived to go over my friend Adrienne’s house as her mom let us have free reign in the kitchen. We would make slushies with her Snoopy slush maker, chocolate chip cookies, yogurt parfaits, and pizza on English muffins. I lived for my home economics class in middle school and was the first to sign up for pottery throwing classes in high school.

Now, fidgety, curious children sometimes become calm adults. Of course, I am not one of those. Sitting still for me is an incredible exercise of will and patience. I feel badly for the unfortunate person who must sit next to me for a 6 hour plane ride. My mind is on constant overdrive. Linear thinking near impossible. I talk very, very fast. I worry like my Jewish grandma. Walking the streets of NYC with me is a heart racing activity. Standing in line makes me anxious. I jiggle and bounce my legs constantly. I knit scarves to keep my hands moving while watching TV. I pace back and forth while talking on the phone simultaneously moving my free hand to emphasize my point. I must look like a music conductor on speed when I’m talking. I rub my hands excitedly when I talk about a new restaurant or fabulous dish to try. While writing this in bed my right leg is moving back and forth. I shake my legs even while I am asleep and much to the chagrin of my love. After three sleepless months he was forced to purchase a memory foam motion reducing mattress in order to stop what he claimed felt like clinging to a dinghy during a violent storm.

It becomes fairly obvious that NYC is the perfect place to contain my desire for movement, excitement and intensity. This coupled with a relentless need to seek out all wonderful things – at least when it comes to food makes me feel so at home. I can’t describe to you the thrill and anticipation I feel when I try a dish. I am truly at my happiest when I’m cooking, chopping and stirring, or out to dinner trying something amazing. The constant prospect of walking down a side street and discovering that a little hole in the wall serves something ethereal, the mere fact that there are 8 varieties of eggplant to choose from at your local farmers market, and that at three in the morning I can still get a Bahn Mi sandwich somehow contains and simultaneously fuels my restless nature.

Risotto is one of those dishes that somehow reminds me of why I love New York so much and truly satisfies my nature. I enjoy the near constant attention it needs to make it perfect. It’s undeniably simple yet mysteriously complex. It’s a damn sexy dish. The rice swells and becomes creamy from the addition of the hot stock and the near constant stirring. It can morph into any personality with the addition of a few simple ingredients. Friendly and bright with citrus and scallops. Hearty and warm with red wine, cabbage and bacon. Sexy with chanterelles, peas and a drizzle of truffle oil. It’s a dish that can spark the amorous feelings of ladies…so attention all men, please invite your hot prospects over to dinner and have them watch you cook risotto. A properly cooked risotto is akin to floor to ceiling windows and a sweeping view of Manhattan from a 40th floor apartment – what my friends and I crudely call “a panty dropper.”


Basic Risotto

Risotto is pretty easy to master. I promise. It just takes a bit of time and attention and a willingness to stir, stir & stir. So, turn the ipod up, pour yourself a big glass of wine, and invite whomever you are entertaining into the kitchen to watch. Note to the men in the room: making this dish is a particularly effective mechanism for impressing the ladies.

2 TBL. Olive Oil
6 TBL. Butter
Kosher Salt
Freshly Ground Black Pepper
6-8 Cups Chicken Stock
1 ½ Cups Carnaroli or Aborio Rice
½ Cup White Wine or Vermouth
3/4- Cup Freshly Grated Parmesan

Take the onion or shallot and chop into a fine dice. Meanwhile, heat the chicken stock in a small saucepan. Leave on low heat to simmer.

In a sauté pan, melt the olive oil and 3 TBS. of the butter and sauté the shallot on medium-low heat for about 10 minutes (if you are using any herbs such as thyme, sage etc. now is the time to add it). You want the shallots to be translucent but not browned. Add the rice and stir to coat the grains with the butter and shallot. You want to sauté the rice until it becomes translucent. This should take about 3-4 minutes. Add the wine or vermouth. The pan should sizzle when you add the liquid. Stir until the wine has evaporated. Next, add a ladle of the simmering broth and stir until the liquid is absorbed. Continue to repeat this process every few minutes – add hot stock - stir until mixture seems a little dry - add more stock. (N.B If you start to run out of stock just add some water to the pot). The point of all of this is to get the starchy goodness out of the rice and make it creamy. Continue this process until the rice is cooked through but still al dente – this should take about 25-30 minutes total. At this point, you want to add any other ingredients to the mix to heat them through (e.g. add frozen peas and porcini mushrooms at this point). Stir in remaining butter and the grated cheese. Let the risotto sit for 2-3 minutes and serve.

Ideas…
· Porcinis or chanterelle mushrooms, peas or roasted asparagus and truffle oil
· Red wine, sautéed red cabbage and bacon
· Roast butternut squash, sage, amaretti cookies
· Add Crème fraiche or mascarpone cheese at end of cooking instead of parmesan
· Sautéed scallops, grapefruit or lemon juice and zest