There I was, a young culinary school student with a background in central and southern Italian cooking, but very little knowledge of the north, when I came to realize that our lesson that day was making Risotto. I suddenly felt tense, as a wave of anxiety washed over me, remembering when our Chef-instructor had explained at the beginning of our semester that the two preparations that define an expert chef are the perfect French omelet and Risotto. What’s more, it seemed alien to me, having grown up with my grandmother making fresh pastas and sauces based on olive oil, tomatoes, and herbs from our backyard. Flash in the pan preparations were my forte, using a minimal amount of ingredients. The idea of spending a ½ hour standing over a pot—no way. That is of course until I made my first Risotto, or should I say, when I tasted my first Risotto.
