I have a dream, and it involves risotto. More specifically, it involves making a pot of risotto so delicious that it reduces the lucky recipients to vowel sounds and the meal finishes with heads down or bowls upturned to extract every last atom of risotto goodness. Just to be clear? I’ll be eating, too. This is just one reason why I don’t work in a restaurant.

I made risotto for Hallowe’en dinner this year. I’ve been developing a new tradition in my household, wherein Hallowe’en dinner features both prawn and pumpkin. Last year it was pumpkin prawn red Thai curry.  The year before that it was pumpkin prawn soup with coconut milk and lemongrass. I have little imagination, once I find something that looks good on black stoneware. This year, what should have been pumpkin prawn risotto turned out to be butternut squash prawn risotto, but it sufficed in spirit.  There were no pumpkins available smaller than a Buick.

I even did that thing where you chop the squash into what restaurant chefs affectionately call "small dice" which is approximately ½ centimetre squares, no wrong edges or odd shapes. In my defense, I did it because I wanted to see a) if I could, and b) how long it would take.  It didn't really take long to accumulate the requisite two cups, but it was sad to see so many pieces in the reject pile (saved for shepherds pie the next day, never fear).  I came to the conclusion that it's something that you would only do to try to impress someone, and even then it sort of comes off "trying too hard" so you wouldn't.  Or, like me, you have a bizarre desire to chop everything for risotto very small.  I don't know where that comes from - maybe  I once had a risotto with a big hunk of undercooked onion. I do like the smooth texture of risotto to be broken only by featured ingredients, such as a nice asparagus tip, a slice of shiitake mushroom, or, in this case, prawns and tiny cubes of squash.

My dear friend, the Marquise, speculated that it's "just an ultra-safe, anti-choking impulse" and, that "really, things like ‘small dice’ and ‘juilenne’ were devised by people with a bevy of apprentices at their disposal." Given the speed at which we wolfed that baby down, an anti-choking impulse would be a good thing. I only chopped the prawns in rough halves though - thirds (more or less) for the big ones.

The original intended garnish of cilantro was forgotten – or perhaps left by the wayside – as I tried to determine whether it would be overkill or just-enough-kill. The part of me that, as a small child, was endlessly fascinated with sequins and as a budding cook convinced me to put too many toppings on my early pizzas leads me instinctively in the direction of overkill. I try to remember this. Even though I enjoy the stark simplicity of pared down dishes immensely, I have to fight the inclination to add just one more thing. Sometimes, two more things. I’m always excited when I succeed. In this case, I managed to convince myself that if I decided at the last minute to add the garnish, I could quickly chop it up in the final few minutes that the risotto is "resting" covered and off the heat. Subversive, because I know for a fact that once I begin a risotto, all ingredients (not to mention other prospective meal components) must be ready to go or abandoned.

The risotto, ungarnished but for freshly ground black pepper, was a success. However, I only managed to achieve the level of indeterminate consonants, mostly "m"s and "n"s, and a fierce scramble for seconds. I have much work to do.

November 3, 2003