Don’t order the risotto.
This is a mantra I must take up full time. I have eaten three risottos out in restaurants in the last month, and been disappointed by all of them. My weekend savoury rice pudding experiment was at Branca, an Italian restaurant in Oxford. A smoked haddock & parsley omelette with a poached egg appealed: I was counting on getting a posh twist on kedgeree. Instead I got a gloppy load of Arborio rice, with tasteless green flecks and fish whose smoking provenance went as far as a packet of Rothmans. Maybe my home-made risottos are wrong, maybe I tank too much gutsy wine in, and have more bits to excite. But the only good part of this risotto was the egg seeping into the rice. And if I want eggy rice, I know plenty of Chinese restaurants that do it a damn sight cheaper. So note to self, don’t order the risotto.
Site powered by