Sunday 19 April 2020

Week 13 - Vegetables - Antonio Carluccio

Lockdown, or at least social isolation, finally reaches the blog (which shows you how far behind I am writing these up...). The tail end of March saw the Ewing and I sent home from the office one morning and as I write this - some three-and-a-half weeks later we are still here. Luckily we are considered key workers and can both work from home, so, although adjusting to our new life has been somewhat of a challenge at times, and we have both been kept busy, we both feel very fortunate.

Another reason to feel lucky is the wonderful countryside that surrounds us, which we have been exploring on our Government-approved daily walks. While much of it is familiar, it's surprising just how much is hidden on your doorstep. And of course, the allotment which, according to Michael Gove, is still considered part of your daily exercise. The first (and probably last) time I will agree with him about anything.

It was on one of our visits to the allotment that the seed for this week's recipe was planted. While March is a fairly barren month, the Ewing kept talking about patches of red-veined sorrel that had self-seeded after she grew it years ago. 

I don't remember cooking it back then, but I chanced upon a recipe for a sorrel risotto in Antonio Carluccio's Vegetables  - a far more inspiring title than it probably sounds - and a plan started to fall into place to use some of the wild leaves that are so  beloved of the Italians, and are also abundant here at this time of year. And also avoiding a dreaded trip to a post-Corona world supermarket, with its increasingly bare shelves and paranoid customers.

We picked some wild garlic from the one patch that grows in the woods by our house, and I was also thrilled to find the little patch we have been nurturing under a bench in our garden is also beginning to thrive. Well, enough to make a jar of wild garlic and walnut pesto with, which was added to some homemade gnocchi as well as a splodge ending up in this risotto, too.

I also put on my marigolds and picked some young nettle leaves from the end of the garden (you can see Pusskins came over the fence to help), and then we went on a walk past the allotment and collected the aforementioned red-veined sorrel, originally planted by the Ewing circa 2013, when she first got the allotment, and still popping up in tufts reminiscent of the late Keith Flint's hair when I saw The Prodigy at Reading Festival as a teenager.

Risotto of wild vegetables -  adapted from Antonio Carluccio
serves 4

a large handful of fresh sorrel leaves, washed and tough stems removed
a large handful of wild garlic, washed
a large handful of nettles, washed and tough stems removed
2 tbs of wild garlic/basil pesto (optional)
2 litres chicken or vegetable stock
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, peeled and finely chopped
small glass of dry white wine (Italian if you've got it)
350g risotto rice
50g Parmesan, freshly grated
a large knob of unsalted butter
salt and black pepper

Blanch the nettles and wild garlic in boiling water, rinse in cold water and then blend into a puree. Set aside.
Put the stock into a saucepan on a low heat, next to where you will make the risotto.
Heat the olive oil in a pan (I use a casserole dish), and fry the onion for about 10 minutes, until softened a little. Add the wine and bubble for a minute or two until the alcohol has burnt off.
Add the rice and stir around to coat each grain. 
Add the hot stock a ladle at a time, stirring until it is fully absorbed before adding more liquid.
After 10 minutes add some salt and the puree.
Continue cooking, stirring and adding stock, for about another 15 minutes, which is when you should taste a grain of rice for your preferred al dente texture and the rice should be moist, but not too wet. When it is nearly ready, add most of the sorrel leaves, roughly chopped if large, saving a few to garnish.
When the rice is to your taste, take the pan off the heat, beat in the Parmesan and the butter until glossy, and serve with a sprinkling of freshly ground black pepper and the remaining sorrel leaves


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