Chez Panisse's Butternut Squash Risotto

I've been reading Alan Weisman's The World Without Us over the past few weeks. Usually, I breeze through books in a few hours flat, but I can only take a little bit of this one at a time. I read part of a chapter each night before bed, then close the book feeling slightly wide-eyed and totally desperate. It's tough to read this book without feeling that life on earth really is rather futile and pointless, and I'm sure I don't need to tell anyone that this isn't exactly a helpful attitude to have if you're trying to be a normal, functioning human being with hopes and dreams and goals (who wants to end up like George Sibley, after all?).

We drove out to a nature preserve on Long Island yesterday, past empty strip malls and prefab homes, down winding lanes and old stone walls. We ended up in a tiny 6-car parking lot where the air was light and clean and almost entirely quiet except for the very gentle wind in the trees and the occasional bird calling out and the usual hustle and bustle of chipmunks skittering over the moist earth and softly rotting leaves. We sat in our car with the doors open and ate sandwiches Ben had made, chewing quietly in order not to disturb the aural peace, then made our way through the grassy paths - hot underfoot from the strange October sun - to the cooler, darker, sun-dappled forest. Fallen tree trunks, covered in moss and lichen, blocked our path now and then, and the crackling twigs and leaves that heralded our arrival made birds and smaller animals flit away in a small flurry of movement. The forest smelled fresh and piney.

Our winding path led us to a grassy bluff overlooking the Long Island Sound. We took our shoes off and walked up and down the beach, picking up opalescent rocks, creamy-white quahog shells, and weathered sticks of driftwood. We watched seagulls feast on their lunch, dashing mussels on the rocks, diving underwater and coming back up with their beaks smacking, picking at little and not-so-little crabs. Regular gourmands, those gulls. The Sound was a deep, dark blue - the color of my great-aunt Luisa's silk wedding dress - and lapped at the shore soothingly. We passed a lone couple splayed out on a blanket fast asleep and I could almost feel the cool, wet sand under my shoulder blades as I watched them out of the corner of my eyes.

On our drive back home again I tried hard to hold onto the sounds of the ocean and the forest. But it's harder than you think, once winding bridle paths give way to turnpikes and local highways. Plus, Led Zeppelin was on the radio, and I can't ever turn off Led Zeppelin - it reminds me of Berlin and the people I grew up with, 8th grade dances on a ski trip in Austria and the absolutely glorious awkwardness of youth. Those are memories I've always got time for. The nature preserve fell further and further behind us, and we daydreamed about the day when we'll live by the ocean full-time - writing, making music, sipping tea. It's mostly an illusion, but these conversations move life forward, I suspect, keeping our gears oiled and running.

Forgive me, readers, but at home I took one look at my newspaper recipe files and turned away. I've read them through one too many times lately, can't seem to find the enthusiasm right now to make my way through another one just yet. Instead, I went to the fridge and poked through the various bags of CSA produce sitting in the crisper drawers, finding half a butternut squash, some crusty-looking beets, limpish kale, a dusty-brown head of garlic (well, that wasn't in the fridge) and a bundle of soft sage. Ben wandered in and wondered out loud if we shouldn't just order. I shooed him out again.

With Chez Panisse Vegetables open on the counter, I started roasting the beets for salad (page 44), cubing the butternut squash for risotto (page 282) and gently frying rosemary and garlic for the beans and kale (page 40). The beets sweetened and mellowed in the oven. I slipped off their thickish skins and sliced them thinly, then dressed them with nothing but flaky salt, olive oil and vinegar. The cubed squash simmered gently in sage-scented broth, while rice toasted in oil and butter and the onions grew translucent from the heat. The risotto, green-flecked and squash-studded, was sweet and faintly chewy - the squash toothsome and yielding. The crispy, fried sage leaves broke with the tiniest of crackles under the tines of our forks. The beans, canned, because life is sometimes not ready for dried, grew melting and stewy in their rosemary oil bath, and the chopped kale cooked down silkily around them. Drizzled with a greenish thread of fresh olive oil, the greens and beans were pleasingly herbal and earthy.

It was a good dinner, after a good day, despite the pinprick of melancholy I couldn't shake. The routine of preparing a meal and feeding the people you love: it never really gets old. That's part of what keeps us going, I suppose, routines and love and stupid, foolish hope that we won't really destroy the very thing that enables our existence.

Butternut Squash Risotto
Serves 6 to 8

1 medium butternut squash (about 1 pound)
24 sage leaves
Salt and pepper
7 to 8 cups chicken stock
1 medium onion
5 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 cups Arborio rice
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup Parmigiano Reggiano, grated

1. Peel and clean the squash, then dice it into very small cubes. Put the diced squash in a heavy-bottomed pan with a few whole sage leaves, salt and 1 cup of the chicken stock. Bring to a simmer and cook until tender, but not too soft, about 5 to 10 minutes. Meanwhile, chop 6 sage leaves fine and cut the onion into small dice.

2. Heat the rest of the stock and hold at a low simmer. In another heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat 3 tablespoons of butter, add the chopped sage and cook for a minute or so; add the onion and continue to cook over medium heat until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the rice and a pinch of salt and cook over low heat for about 3 minutes, stirring often, until the rice has turned slightly translucent. Turn up the heat and pour in the white wine. When the wine has been absorbed, add just enough hot stock to cover the rice, stir well and reduce the heat.

3. Keep the rice at a gently simmer and continue to add more stock, a ladle or two at a time, letting each addition be absorbed by the rice. While the rice is cooking, saute the remaining sage leaves in butter until crisp.

4. After 15 minutes, the rice will be nearly cooked. Stir in the cooked squash, the rest of the butter and the cheese. Continue cooking for 3 to 5 minutes, stirring often. Taste for texture and consistency, adding more stock if necessary. Adjust the seasoning. When done, serve in warm bowls and garnish with crisp sage leaves, and more cheese if desired.

Comments

[alec]

There is nothing I love more than seeing people make magic out of stuff sitting around in the fridge/pantry. Congrats!

[David]

terrific post-just knowing that you made a nice dinner out of a few odds and ends give me hope, even if you're feeling a little lack of it.

[Leah]

I wish this one were in a book, so I could dog-ear the page, wrap myself in a blanket, make a cup of tea with milk and honey, and read it on cold nights when I'm feeling lonely and in need of a little sustenance - not in my belly but in my soul. xo

[ann]

You know, I kind of love that tinge of melancholy that floats around from time to time. It's like the last remnants of teenage angst like you remembered while listening to Zeppelin, and it always hits me in fall. Always. It also hits me on empty, off-season beaches... When I saw your picture of the horseshoe crab it crept over me... Thanks for a lovely pos, a great story and a glorious meal! I'm glad you guys had a nice weekend too :-)

[pam]

wow. i am reading the same book in the same way as you. it's almost two weeks overdue at the library now, because it's just not possible to read it all at once.

and...have been searching for a recipe to use up a butternut squash i got.

great entry!

[mary]

I'm left feeling like I need a cup of tea and a blanket after this one. I just made chicken stock and I was wondering what to put in my risotto tomorrow, this looks perfect, especially the sage leaves. Thanks.

[Erin]

I have to say Luisa... that's been my favorite post in awhile. It sounds like cooking has become a chore for you. Hitting your fridge was the best thing you could have done. Taking cooking back to what it always, really is... something meant to fulfill and comfort.

[Abby]

Well said. It made me a bit teary, but I think that was the point.

[janet]

thank you for the lovely post and a reminder of what keeps us going, even if it's melancholy or illusion or something so tangible and real as cooking a warm meal for yourself and those close to you.

[Cory]

Lovely post, and seeing the pictures of Long Island Sound also fills me with melancholy. My grandparents still live on its shores, and my head swims with memories of time spent growing up there.

[loring p.]

dear luisa,

i'm making this recipe right now! thanks for providing stellar dinner inspiration!

a question: there was some liquid left in the butternut squash after i simmered them with the stock. should i drain the squash before adding it to the rice in the last step?

-loring (a devoted reader)

[Lydia]

Butternut squash risotto is a total comfort food for me, and I love the color, too. Now that the weather is getting a bit cooler, it's time to bring out the risotto pan!

[carrie]

This is the perfect recipe for me to try butternut squash with! I've never made it myself! I've bought a squash and then watched it slowly go bad in the fridge because i was too scared to figure out how to the cook it!! Thanks for the great recipe!! Yum!! It's perfect too, because it's naturally gluten-free!!

[Luisa]

Alec - it's fun when it all comes together. Makes you feel all resourceful and thrifty.

David - thanks, my friend.

Leah - my goodness, thank you.

Ann - usually fall feels so regenerative and thrilling. This year, I don't know, it's different, in a way.

Pam - great minds think alike! Glad you're also struggling with that book. I'm compulsive so I feel like I need to finish it, even if I don't really want to...

Mary, Erin, Janet, Abby and Cory - thank you all so much, I'm so touched that you guys liked this.

Loring - I added that little bit of stock to the rice (and had left the rice a little bit dryer than usual, expecting to do so), figuring the extra sage flavor couldn't hurt. I think this recipe makes for a looser risotto than I'm used to, but it's delicious nonetheless. Hope you liked it!

Lydia - I'd never made it before! I like it a lot, though. I'm sure it'll make a repeat performance soon.

Carrie - never made it before??? Oh dear, then I'd suggest you start with soup - butternut squash soup is the best, soooo delicious.

[mbbored]

Mmm, so delicious. This'll be on my table later this week.

[lee]

Such a lovely post. You captured the feeling of your day so eloquently.

[Julie]

Luisa -- thanks for inspiration, even though you yourself may be feeling the lack of it. I am sometimes timorous about including non-food bits and pieces in posts (although isn't that what the very nature of blogging is? Yes, yes, stay on message, and yet it is a LOG, not a piece of journalism...). Your ability to weave such serious feelings and sensibilities into your writing, and still end gracefully with a recipe -- well, it teaches me, and does me good, too.

I wonder if many of us haven't been feeling more than a bit serious lately -- knowing that wrongs are not yet being righted, and feeling despondent at times about how to make that happen. In my own case, I'm just starting to understand that I need to TAKE ACTION, however small, and stop confusing thinking about taking action with actually doing something...

[Hillary]

Wow. Did Alice make that recipe? That looks absolutely fantastic!!

[Dana]

I think there must be an outbreak of butternut squash risotto fever! I recently made a different version, and I've seen a couple other bloggers make some as well. This version looks delicious too!

[Hillary]

how lovely that you're reading "the world without us"! you see, alan weisman is my boyfriend's godfather. and while we have a signed copy of the book still begging us to read it, we haven't yet indulged. i know it may seem to have a futile overtone, but i think it's really about opening your eyes and appreciating how life, all forms of it, is beautiful and synergistic. keep us posted on your feelings once you've finished!

[Tea]

What a lovely, lovely, post, my dear. I can very much relate to the despair, and also to the solace found in nature. I think there are things we can do, every day, to mitigate our impact: how we shop (yay, CSA), what we consume, the politics and policies we support. Thanks for the reminder.

[Luisa]

Julie - loved your comment, thank you so much. Funny how things resonate with other people. And yes, taking action...sometimes I feel crippled by the enormity of it all.

Hillary - that's an interesting take on it - I think that maybe when it's done I'll be able to look back on it more serenely. I hope so, at least!

Tea - thanks, my friend ;)

[Susan from Food Blogga]

I simply love the way butternut squash adds creaminess to risotto. I make one with squash and blue cheese that I turn to when I need a little comfort. Hope you're getting some comfort too.

[nicole]

I love this -- I often feel similarly after being outside, in a quiet place, and then returning to life and the city. Sometimes a delicious and nourishing meal really helps to ease the transition.

[cathy]

I love me some risotto, I would definitely try out this recipe. Thanks for sharing

[kellypea]

Definitely a lovely day the way you've described it. I have trouble with heavy reads, too, and often find myself reaching for something to take my mind off the immense responsibility they place on my two shoulders. Thanks for the risotto recipe. It's a dinner from the pantry & fridge night, and I just happen to have it all. Love your writing...