Tomato & Basil Risotto
Thoughts on comfort and Anthony Bourdain.
When the weather begins to get colder and the days begin to grow shorter, comfort is the thing I find myself craving the most. Warm fairy lights, a thick jumper draped over my shoulders and food that you can eat by the spoonful, food that makes the cold outside seem worth it. We have such a funny relationship with comfort. We crave it, it makes us feel safe, it makes us feel at home, but we’re always trying to disavow it by leaving our ‘comfort zones’ or not allowing ourselves to feel too comfortable, as that means there is a lack of growth in our lives.
Comfort is almost a never ending goal. The moment you touch it, you must push it further away. The moment you settle in it, you must walk away from it. It’s a double edged sword, to crave something that is both good and bad for you. I find that I equate comfort with safety most of the time, but the more I find myself tapping into the discomfort I feel in my life, the more I realise that comfort is not the feeling of safety, but the feeling of finding somewhere safe to be uncomfortable. So many of us never explore the discomfort we feel in our lives, in our emotions because we don’t see a safe place to land. In a world that is seemingly at our fingertips, discomfort is something that needs time to be processed, time to be felt, time to evolve.
We’ve grown so accustomed to comfort and convenience, we forget that there are many things out there worth waiting and working for. I’ve been reading a lot of Anthony Bourdain lately. I ran across a quote from an interview he gave years ago that made me think.
“…when we started thinking of food as convenient, meaning I can have mediocre strawberries 365 days a year … We got spoiled … and we lowered our standards. In Italy, you look forward to the month or so where you have fresh tomatoes. That’s unthinkable to an American … We stopped thinking about food as an important and pleasurable experience worth waiting for or worth working for.”
I thought it was ironic how this quote could applicable to most things in life. When we stop thinking about our lives and ourselves as important and meaningful, we settle for mediocre. We settle for mediocre relationships and friendships, mediocre books, mediocre food - a fucking tragedy - and mediocre lives. By chasing what’s convenient and quick and easy to access, we don’t allow ourselves to truly take time to enjoy and savour what should be a pleasurable existence.
This week, I woke up on Wednesday morning feeling like there was a dark cloud over my head. Having struggled with depression for a decade now, thoughts of relapse and steps backward immediately flooded every centimetre of my brain. I wanted to reach for my emergency Xanax and take the edge away, but I didn’t. I sat with the discomfort and sat with the panic to try and understand why I was feeling this way. I rode it out. I woke feeling better on Thursday, still not perfect, but not so scared. I sat with my discomfort and it was okay.
This week’s recipe is made with frozen tomatoes, leftover from the summer. There is something about summer tomatoes that is worth waiting for. Chunky, juicy, sweet tomatoes, perfectly ripe, waiting to consumed. There is something about peace that is worth waiting for. Clarity, calm, never willing to consume you.
See you next week,
Inês
This week, I’m bringing you two reads and a watch. First, this really interesting ready by Mikala Jamison from the newsletter ‘The Body Type’ about how we don’t dress sexy just for ourselves, we do it for others, too. And what is wrong with that? I know that when I go out, I’m not just dressing for myself I’m also dressing for my girlfriends. If my girls think I look hot, I’ve done my duty.
Next up, a read I stumbled across my Twitter feed (I will never call it X, soz) about one of the most famous historians of Rome on why people, but especially men, are so obsessed with the Roman Empire. The Roman Empire trend has been one of my favourite things to come out of the internet recently, so I loved this piece.
Lastly, since I’ve been on a Bourdain binge and the news coming out of Gaza continue to be more and more atrocious each day, his episode of Parts Unknown in Jerusalem. I think this is such an important watch and not just a reminder of the culture and beauty of Palestine, Gaza and the West Bank, but also a stark reminder of all that is being lost.
2 shallots
1 tablespoon of tomato paste
Olive oil
Vegetable stock
A few glugs of white wine
1 cup of arborio rice (I used the actual measurement, but if you have a random glass around the house that you use for your rice, that will work just fine.)
2 large tomatoes, preferably frozen, but if not, then just unpeeled
1 tablespoon of butter
A large handful of basil leaves
Some fresh mozzarella
Begin to warm up your veggie stock. Add a few glugs of olive oil to a large pan and let that warm as well. Thinly slice your shallots and add them to the olive oil. Shallots are more delicate than onions so you don’t your pan to be too hot or they will burn.
Add the tomato paste to the shallots and stir together. If your tomatoes are frozen, all you have to do is run them under warm water and they’ll be super easy to peel. If not, blach them really quickly in hot, and then ice cold water and it will produce the same effect. Cut them into chunks and add them to the pan.
Let them cook down for a couple of minutes. Then add your basil leaves, cut up in whichever way you prefer. Add your rice and a few glugs of white wine - I usually add 3 to 4. Let the alcohol in the wine cook off and let the rice absorb some of the liquid.
Begin to add your vegetable stock and stir, stir, stir like your life depends on it. There’s a noticeable difference in the rice when it’s cooked, it becomes less white and more ‘blurry’, but you can always have a taste to confirm. Add a tablespoon of butter and stir it through.
Serve with some fresh mozzarella on top and more basil leaves.