is different, so cooking times must be faithfully
observed. Sausage and rice may sound pedestrian, but the
result is remarkably light and extremely palatable.
89
March
RISI E LUGANEGHE
You may substitute other kinds of Italian sausage if they
are meaty and well spiced. Your average British sausage,
I fear, will not serve.
Remove any rind and chop the pancetta into very small
cubes. Melt the butter in a heavy, flameproof casserole
dish, add the pancetta and let it slowly render its fat. Add
the onion and let it stew gently in the butter and fat until it
begins to colour. Add the sausage meat to the onion and
mash the meat with a wooden spoon to break it up and
seal it. Continue to cook the meat until it is crisp and
friable, then pour in the white wine. Bring to the boil and
reduce until syrupy before adding the stock and bringing
back to the boil. Skim the surface, then sprinkle in the rice,
stir well and turn the heat down to a simmer and cook for
about 15 minutes. Once the rice is cooked, check it for
seasoning then add the parsley and grated Parmesan. Stir
well, add a little more butter, if liked, then serve.
Serves four for lunch,
six as a starter.
75g (23⁄4oz) fatty pancetta
30g (1oz) butter
1 onion, peeled and finely
chopped
300g (10½oz) luganeghe or
similar Italian sausage, skin
removed and coarsely
chopped
100ml (3½fl oz) white wine
750ml (11⁄4 pints) chicken or
beef stock
250g (9oz) risotto rice
a good handful of flat-leaf
parsley, leaves picked and
coarsely chopped
50g (13⁄4oz) Parmesan cheese,
grated
salt and black pepper
WINE: The Veneto is the home of Valpolicella, once the
staple of cheap wine bars and a rather thin drop. These
days, we can buy many great wines from that region. Here,
a light, easy-drinking style is called for, with lots of bright
cherry fruit.
91
March
Not Just a Pretty Picture
Sea Bass en Papillote
A chef in France has banned his customers from taking
photographs of his food, citing his ‘intellectual copyright’
as having been breached by diners who might otherwise
have breathed in a dish’s aroma, tucked in and spoken to
their companions. I agree that it is a silly, slightly rude
custom that completely misses the point, but I would
never impose such a ban. It is their food and their dinner
that is being spoilt. Nevertheless, it is a worrying trend.
I blame the TV. Ever since food programmes stopped
being fun and started taking food too seriously, the way a
dish looks has become more important than the way it
smells or tastes. I recently experienced a dish that
illustrated this unbalanced visual emphasis. It was sculpted
on a black rectangular plate in the shape of a tree. The
leaves were a blossom of ice-cold creamy emulsion that
tasted of very little. Among the leaves were little spheroid
charms in purple, green and orange, with ever more bizarre
flavours. At the base of the tree was a collection of small
fruits of the forest, which included mushrooms fashioned
out of foie gras, shards of Ibérico ham and some micro
leaves. Not content with his work, the chef had directed the
waiter to come over with a dredger and shower ‘snow’ of
dehydrated essence of some worryingly unidentifiable
substance over the ensemble. Still worried he might have
left something out, the chef came over and shaved some
excellent but redundant truffles over the surface. With chef
finally satisfied, I was free to savour the dish. It was visually
arresting and tasted quite repulsive.
There is a deeper problem. Food becoming pretty
pictures is just another symptom, I fear, of our alienation
from the processes behind our food and our inability to
deal with them. In Hong Kong it is considered poor form
to buy dead fish – it is usually sold still flapping around in
a tank – and chickens are often sold alive and dispatched
in
