December 23, 2024 Issue

Anthony Lane writes the most perceptive, sparkling, witty, light-hearted, elegant prose. John Updike compared it to champagne. No matter what his subject, he hooks me with his opening line, and then the next one, and the next, and before I know it, I’ve read an entire essay on Lego or astronauts or John Ruskin or The Sound of Music. It's as easy as quaffing a flute of Prosecco. His piece in this week’s issue, called “Stirring Stuff,” is excellent. It’s about his love of risotto and his quest for the perfect dish of it. He visits Bottega Vini, in Verona, to observe the chefs making risotto all’Amarone:

To judge by what I saw, this is how risotto all’Amarone is summoned into being: Butter, then rice, which toasts for a short while. No onions at all. Two and a half ladles’ worth of wine, which hisses like a serpent as it hits the pan. (The chef exclaimed, “Sempre con un fuoco vivace”—“Always with a lively fire.”) Lean in close enough, inhale, and you might, if your head is weak, begin to get vaporously drunk. As the alcohol boils off, add simmering water, followed by vegetable stock. Do not be startled by the simplicity of the thing. Scrape around the sides. Remove from the stove. A dab more butter, a strewing of Parmesan, and then, unexpectedly, another glug of Amarone, too late to be steamed away. It is there to throw a punch. The result is something to behold: glossy and purplish, darker and deeper than blood. Mark Rothko would have asked for seconds.

He goes to Locarno to see a risotto-making contest:

The climax of Locarno’s celebration is a risotto-making contest, which unfolds over two days in the Piazza Grande. This is an ancient rite, dating back to the mists of 2014, and rivalries have already grown amiably intense. On Friday, August 23rd, in a vast tent, a number of restaurant chefs, backed by sweltering assistants, wrought their magic. What they conjured up was doled out to the public, who stood patiently in line, like genial descendants of the boys in “Oliver Twist,” to be given a helping in a cardboard bowl. Having scarfed down my risotto al pesto di limoni e Merlot bianco con bocconcini di pollo croccanti e pepe Vallemaggia, which took longer to say than it did to eat, I could hardly suppress a plaintive cry: “Please, signor, I want some more.”

I love his description of how risotto is made:

You melt a bit of butter, sauté some chopped onion, add rice, stir it around, add wine, stir, then add hot stock, ladle by ladle, while you stir and stir again. Remove the pan from the heat. Throw in grated Parmesan and more butter. Stir. Wait. Serve. Eat. Feel your immortal soul being warmed and suffused with pleasures both rare and immeasurable. Lick the spoon. Wash the pan. Done. 

“Stirring Stuff” is a delectable tour of Lane's risotto world. I enjoyed it immensely.