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Mushroom Risotto with Parmesan — The Best Thing I Make (Maybe)

Linda Fitzgerald cried. I want to record this because Linda crying is apparently a rare event that Ed noticed with considerable surprise — she told me afterward that she hadn't cried at their own wedding, which either explains something about Linda or about the wedding — and when I brought out the apple pie and Sean D. said, "We have some news," and told them, Linda put her hand over her mouth the same way Maureen had done, and her eyes filled up, and Ed reached over and covered her hand with his. Ed said, "A grandchild." Just those two words. Then he said, "Well." Which for Ed is a full paragraph.

The telling is becoming its own small pleasure — not because I enjoy performing the news but because each person's response tells me something about them that I didn't know I was missing. Meghan got it first and immediately asked clinical questions. Maureen cried silently and then recovered immediately to practical food questions. Patrick said it was about time. Danny texted twelve emojis in a row, which is Danny's version of complete emotional disclosure. Linda cried and Ed said "Well." Every response is completely in character and also completely new. People are who they are, but news like this reveals the specific color of who they are.

Work this week I covered for a colleague on leave, which meant extra hours and a patient load I wasn't fully prepared for on Monday, and by Thursday I was tired in a way that is different from the regular work-tired, which is a note I'm taking about the third trimester to come. I slept Friday evening at five PM and didn't wake up until seven, which is two hours of sleep that I could not have prevented any more than I could prevent gravity.

Made a simple mushroom risotto Saturday — standing at the stove for thirty minutes stirring felt different this week, more physical. But the risotto was excellent: arborio rice, white wine, good stock added gradually, a generous hand with the Parmesan at the end. Sean D. said, "I think risotto might be the best thing you make." I said, "I think you're wrong." He said, "What's better?" I couldn't decide. There are too many things. That's the honest answer.

After a week of extra hours and a Friday evening that ended with me asleep by five PM like a person whose body had simply filed a complaint and won, Saturday felt like a day to cook something that required my full attention — not because I had the energy for it, but because thirty minutes of standing at the stove and stirring is its own kind of reset. Risotto demands presence in a way that’s almost meditative, and after a week of being needed in a dozen different directions, I was ready to be needed only by a pot of rice. This is the version I’ve made enough times that it’s become muscle memory: mushrooms, arborio, white wine, warm stock added patiently, and enough Parmesan at the end that it becomes something you can’t entirely explain.

Mushroom Risotto with Parmesan

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 cups arborio rice
  • 5 to 6 cups chicken or vegetable stock, warmed
  • 8 oz cremini or mixed mushrooms, sliced
  • 1/2 cup dry white wine
  • 1 medium shallot, finely diced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  • 1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • Freshly ground black pepper
  • Fresh thyme or flat-leaf parsley, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

  1. Warm the stock. Pour the stock into a medium saucepan and set over low heat. Keep it warm — just below a simmer — throughout the cooking process. Cold stock added to risotto slows everything down and affects the texture.
  2. Cook the mushrooms. In a wide, heavy-bottomed pan or Dutch oven, heat 1 tablespoon of butter and 1 tablespoon of olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the sliced mushrooms in a single layer and let them cook undisturbed for 2 to 3 minutes until they begin to brown. Stir, season with a pinch of salt, and cook another 2 minutes. Transfer mushrooms to a plate and set aside.
  3. Build the base. Reduce the heat to medium. In the same pan, add the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil and 1 tablespoon butter. Add the shallot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 3 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more.
  4. Toast the rice. Add the arborio rice to the pan and stir to coat in the fat. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes, stirring frequently, until the edges of the grains look slightly translucent and the rice smells faintly nutty.
  5. Add the wine. Pour in the white wine and stir constantly until it is fully absorbed, about 2 minutes.
  6. Add the stock gradually. Add the warm stock one ladleful at a time (roughly 1/2 cup per addition), stirring frequently and waiting until each addition is almost fully absorbed before adding the next. Continue this process for 25 to 30 minutes, until the rice is creamy and just tender with a slight bite at the center. You may not need all the stock, or you may need a splash more — follow the rice, not the clock.
  7. Finish the risotto. Remove the pan from heat. Stir in the remaining 1 tablespoon of butter, the reserved mushrooms, and the Parmesan cheese. Stir vigorously for 30 to 60 seconds — this is what gives risotto its signature creamy consistency. Taste and adjust salt and pepper.
  8. Serve immediately. Spoon into warm bowls and top with additional Parmesan and fresh herbs if desired. Risotto does not wait well, so bring everyone to the table before you finish the last ladle of stock.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 475 | Protein: 16g | Fat: 19g | Carbs: 58g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 670mg

Kate Donovan
About the cook who shared this
Kate Donovan
Week 77 of Kate’s 30-year story · Boston, Massachusetts
Kate is a thirty-five-year-old nurse practitioner in Boston and a widowed mother of two whose husband Sean died of brain cancer at thirty-three. She makes Irish soda bread and beef stew and shepherd's pie because the recipes are all she has left of a man who was supposed to grow old with her. She writes about cooking through grief and finding out you can still feed your children on the worst day of your life.

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