When I was doing the research that led me to my decision to eliminate grains from my diet, I was quite happy to learn that of all the grains and their multitude of preparations, nutrient-poor, polished white rice was the least likely to be harmful. It came as a surprise at first. After all, up to that point, I had been a staunch advocate of brown rice, that superfood championed by 21st century health nuts who scoff at the fact that most rice-eating cultures– rightly or not — have reviled the stuff for centuries.
Tortellini, baguette, baguette, pancakes, pain au chocolat… I was ready to relinquish it all, but a future devoid of the pleasures of sushi, shrimp noodle rolls and glutinous rice dumplings was somehow much harder to digest.
For a few years, I did avoid all grains, but as my health improved and my immune system became more robust, I was able to embrace a more flexible approach to food. Given my metabolic health and weight, I saw no reason why white rice could not occasionally sneak its way into my meals, as long I tempered its sky-high glycemic index and made up for its poor nutritional value by eating it alongside nutrient-dense foods.
Eating rice opened an exciting world of culinary possibilities. After all, rice is the principal food source for about half of the world’s population. The culinary traditions to draw on for inspiration and guidance are diverse and plentiful.
Why on earth I woke up one morning with the sudden determination to make risotto is not entirely clear to me. It was not a dish I commonly ate as a child, nor do I have any particularly fond or transformative memories of eating it. I ate many exquisite meals both times I found myself in Italy, and yet risotto did not figure among them.
Whatever the reason, I was resolute. Dinner would be risotto and that was the end of it.
Or maybe, I should say, the beginning…
I remembered hearing, risotto-naïve that I was, that risotto could be made with any short- or medium-grain rice, but that if you wanted to make risotto the proper way, you should buy a variety of rice called Arborio. In other words, if you wanted to be a truly snooty gastronome, you should use Italian medium-grain rice and no other. Although there was some truth to the first part (making risotto with long-grain would be a useless endeavour), it turns out that the second part couldn’t have been more wrong, not for a surfeit of snootiness but for an insufficiency.
Did it really make a difference what variety of rice you added to your risotto? If so, what, exactly, made the difference? To understand this, and to be able to make educated decisions which types of rice of buy, or, more to the point, whether or not to give a rat’s ass about which variety to use, it is useful to step back and dive into a bit of organic chemistry.
The Scoop About Starch
Starch is a polysaccharide (a grouping of many sugar molecules) used by plants for energy storage. There are two main types of starch, found in different proportions in all the starchy foods we consume, from wheat and rice to cassava and potatoes.
Amylose molecules are made up of around 1,000 glucose sugars, chained together in a helical structure with few branches. Amylopectin molecules, on the other hand, can range from roughly 5,000 to 20,000 glucose sugars, with many short branches. As Harold McGee explains in his book On Food and Cooking, “amylose is thus a relatively small, simple molecule that can easily settle into compact, orderly, tightly bonded clusters, while amylopectin is a large, bushy, bulky molecule that doesn’t cluster easily or tightly.” As far as cooking is concerned, the more orderly clusters of amylose need more time, more water and higher temperatures to soften and become edible, and they tend to harden faster as they cool down after cooking, because they form clusters more easily than the highly-branched amylopectin molecules.
The proportions of these two types of starch explain much about the properties of the different varieties of rice. Long-grain rice (Oryza sativa ssp. indica), which has a higher amylose content, requires more water and longer cooking times to prepare. However, they are more forgiving than other types of rice – – less prone to dissolving into amorphous mush. The cooked grains are springy and remain separate from one another, and they quickly firm up as they cool. Long-grain indicas are the principal type of rice consumed in China, India, Pakistan and Thailand. Common varieties include basmati (India) and jasmine rice (Thailand).
Short-grain and medium-grain rice (Oryza sativa ssp. japonica), the preferred type in places like North China, Japan and Korea, with their lower amylose content, take less time and water to cook, and become quite sticky. They remain tender at room temperature. To understand the role of amylopectin in rice, think of sushi. Sushi relies on the adhesive properties of amylopectin to form morsels of rice that hold their shape under a piece of fish or omelet. Sushi rice is also eaten at room temperature, and yet remains as soft to the palate as the slice of tuna belly lying atop.
Finally, there is glutinous rice, named as such not because it contains any gluten (it doesn’t), but because of its glue-like properties. Made up almost entirely of amylopectin, it becomes extremely sticky when cooked, and is prone to disintegrating. In Asia, it is commonly used to make a variety of desserts and dumplings.
What About Italian Rice?
According to archaeological evidence, short-grain rice was domesticated around 7000 BCE in the Yangtze River Valley in south-central China. Long-grain rice followed shortly after in South East Asia. Rice cultivation spread West to Europe via Persia. The Moors introduced it to Spain during the 8th century, and then to Sicily, while the Island was under Muslim rule, as I talked about here. Outside of these areas, where rice quickly became part of the local culinary tradition, rice was known mainly as a medicinal substance, the province of apothecaries. Its culinary uses in continental Italy only kicked off in the 15th century, when rice cultivation began in Lombardy.
Rice, along with maize, became important crops during the famines of the 16th century, to appease peasant hunger until the next wheat harvest. With its newfound reputation as a food of poverty, it is mostly absent from court recipes from this period, and fell out of vogue again in the 17th century, only to resurface in the next in response to food difficulties. In 1839, a Jesuit priest in the Philippines smuggled home 43 varieties of Japonica rice, which were hybridized with the local “Nostrale” rice to produce plants that would be more resistant to rice blast, a fungal disease threatening rice harvests. More varieties were imported from Asia in 1880, and new hybrids were developed that were better suited to the temperate climate of Northern Italy, and also, it seems, to the creation of perfect velvety risotto.
It is among these relatively recent rice varieties that we encounter Arborio, the Italian rice most accessible in North America, but also the less well-known Baldo, Carnaroli and Vialone Nano varieties. The difference between them comes down, of course, to the amount and ratio of amylose and amylopectin found in each.
In her inquiry into Italian rice, chef and author Janet Fletcher explains the difference:
Of all the japonica varieties grown in Italy, Carnaroli has the highest amylose content. Chefs may not know such technical details, but the relatively high amylose content gives Carnaroli the qualities they admire — it absorbs a lot of liquid, it offers a long window between cooked and overcooked, and it makes a creamy, flowing risotto, not a sticky one. It merits the superfino classification not because of any of these qualities but because of its high ratio of length to width. Semifinos like Vialone Nano aren’t inferior; they’re simply rounder.
In fact, Vialone Nano has almost as much amylose as Carnaroli and measures even lower on the stickiness charts. It is every Venetian chef’s choice for risotto, probably because it is widely grown in that area but also, chefs say, because it produces the desirable all’onda (wavy) texture. When a cook showily tosses the finished risotto in the saucepan with a flip of the wrist, it rises up and breaks like a wave. Arborio and Baldo have significantly less amylose. Consequently, they absorb less liquid, take longer to cook and tend to produce a somewhat starchier, stickier risotto.
Enough Research, I’m Hungry
Armed with my expansive (albeit still patchy) knowledge of rice, I boarded my bicycle and went to the Mediterranean grocery to see if they could satisfy my rice fantasies. I inspected their rice selection and settled for a box of vaccuum-packed Vialone Nano, then rode along to pick up the rest of the ingredients for my fantasy risotto.
Mushrooms were a must, I pondered as I pedaled, but instead of wild mushrooms, I settled for the more available Asian mushrooms, shiitake and shimeji. I would cook them separately, to avoid confounding my water-to-rice ratio, but would add dried ones to flavour the broth. Sake would take the place of wine, and my homemade beef broth would further nourish my rice grains as they cooked. High-quality butter was a must, as was Parmigiano-Reggiano. Fried sage leaves and a hint of lemon would pair well with the mushroom, and a scattering of toasted pine nuts wouldn’t hurt either.
In the end, what I missed was not the taste or texture of the foods I had forsaken so much as the delights of partaking in a culturally-informed way of eating. First, the social communion that eating offers with the people at your table, and second, the sense of being part of a larger framework that extends back through the generations and centuries, combining culture, history and environment into one simmering pot.
Making risotto, I now understand, was my way of giving that simmering pot a stir!
Thank you for reading!
Joëlle
Serves 2
Velvety risotto with Asian mushrooms, crispy fried sage, toasted pine nuts and a hint of lemon. So easy with the Instant Pot!
Ingredients
- 2-3 shiitake mushroom
- 1/2 cup warm water
- 1/2 cup rice (Vialone Nano or Carnaroli)
- 1 tbsp butter
- 1 shallot, thinly sliced
- 1 small leek, white and light green part, cut into 1cm-rounds
- 1/4 dry white wine or sake
- 1 tbsp shio koji (or 1/2 tsp salt)
- 1 1/4 cup liquid (beef broth + mushroom broth)
- 1 1/2 tbsp butter
- 1/4 fresh shiitake, stem removed and thinly sliced
- 1/4 cup shimeji, base cut off and mushrooms separated by hand
- 1/8 cup fresh sage leaves, roughly chopped
- Pinch salt
- 1/4 cup Parmigiano-Reggiano
- 1/8 cup fresh sage leaves, roughly chopped
- Zest of one lemon
- Black pepper
- 2 tbsp toasted pine nuts
- Strips of lemon zest (optional)
- A few fresh sage leaves (optional)
Instructions
- Pour warm water over the dried shiitake mushrooms and let them rehydrate for at least 30 minutes, or until soft enough to cut.
- Slice the rehydrated mushrooms and set aside. Save the soaking liquid and combine it with beef stock for a total of 1 1/4 cups of liquid.
- Set the Instant Pot to Sauté mode and add 1 tablespoon of butter. Once it has melted, add the shallot and leek. Sauté until softened, about 3-4 minutes.
- Add the rice and toast for a few minutes, stirring to prevent sticking. Deglaze with the wine and turn the Sauté function off.
- Pour in the beef and mushroom broth. Add rehydrated shiitakes slices and shio koji (or salt) to the pot and lock the lid into place.
- Making sure the Steam Release Handle is turned to the Sealing position, set the Pressure Cook program to cook for 6 minutes on high pressure.
- While the rice is cooking, heat a pan over medium heat and toast the pine nuts. When they are golden and fragrant, transfer them to a bowl and return the pan to the stove. Melt the rest of the butter in the pan. Add the fresh mushrooms and sauté until partially cooked. Add 1/8 cup sage leaves and a pinch of salt and keep cooking until the mushroom are cooked through and the sage leaves are crispy.
- Once the cooking time is up on the Instant Pot, let the pressure release naturally for 5 minutes, and then turn the pressure valve to release the rest of the steam. Remove the lid carefully and lift out the inner pot.
- Stir in the cheese, lemon zest, black pepper and the rest of the sage leaves.
- Divide the risotto between the two plates or bowls, top with the sautéed mushrooms and sage and garnish with toasted pine nuts, fresh sage leaves and strips of lemon zest.
Notes
Shio koji (塩麹) is a lacto-fermented mixture of rice koji (rice inoculated with aspergillus oryzae spore -- the basis for many well-know Japanese ferments such as miso, sake and soy sauce). It provides enzymes and probiotics while imparting the dish with a unique umami flavour. You can substitute sea salt, himalayan salt or fish sauce. To learn more about shio koji, how to make it at home, and how to use it in the kitchen, click here.
References
Bentley, R., Trimen, H., & Blair, D. (1880). Medicinal Plants: Being descriptions with original figures of the principal plants employed in medicine. London: J. & A. Churchill.
Cai, X., Fan, J., Jiang, Z., Basso, B., Sala, F., Spada, A., . . . Lu, B. (2013). The Puzzle of Italian Rice Origin and Evolution: Determining Genetic Divergence and Affinity of Rice Germplasm from Italy and Asia. PLoS ONE, 8(11). doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0080351
Capatti, Alberto, and Massimo Montanari. La Cucina Italiana: Storia Di Una Cultura. Laterza, 2014.
Fletcher, J. (2003, October 22). Risotto revelation: Three divergent Italian rices are challenging the reign of Arborio. SFGate. Retrieved April 27, 2019, from https://www.sfgate.com/news/article/RISOTTO-REVELATION-Three-divergent-Italian-2581334.php
McGee, H. (2004). On food and cooking: The science and lore of the kitchen. New York: Scribner.
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