Apart from a frosty fortnight in January, it has been a good season for fennel. I heard this from Filippo at Testaccio market, while he trimmed the fingers and peaco*ck-like crest of feathery fronds until each bulb resembled a stubby hand. We still have a few more months to enjoy it though: fennel may like the cold, but it continues as days get longer and warmer, a presence on stalls laden with spring artichokes, peas and broad beans in their pods, the first of the strawberries and blushing stone fruit. Italians appreciate fennel’s sweet, herbacious and faintly aniseed nature in salads, or simply served in chunks to be dipped in a hot bath of anchovy dressing. My Sicilian family like it chilled in iced, salted, lemon-scented water for crisp, refreshing punctuation between the main course and the pudding.
Despite his liking for it raw, my partner Vincenzo dislikes cooked fennel, the texture is squishy and “funny” (not in an amusing way), whereas I find it silky and fragrant – I love it baked with fish. But he makes an exception for risotto; a dish in which the fennel almost melts into the rice, giving it an aromatic backbone that is cheered by butter and parmesan cheese, and lifted by lemon. It is a dish in which ingredients come together, but taste as they are.
By the time we find fennel in the shops or at the market, it has often had an even more serious crewcut than Filippo gives it. We may then trim it further, removing the thicker outer layer to get at the tender bulb. Any trimmings can be used to make a vegetable stock for today’s risotto, making this a neatly resourceful dish, the sort my wasteful self is trying to use more. My stock last week, which turned out well, used all the fennel trimmings, a big onion, some leek trimmings from the day before, celery with leaves, a bay leaf, 2 garlic cloves, a few peppercorns, carrots, pea pods, parsley and basil stems. To be too prescriptive misses the point – use what you have. You want more or less 1.5 litres of stock for this, so cover the vegetables with 2 litres of water, as it will reduce as it simmers. Once strained, leave the warm stock at the back of the stove, to be added little by little. Alternatively, you could also use light chicken stock, if you wish.
I began to enjoy making risotto as much as I enjoy eating it when I understood better the various stages involved – knew what should be happening under my wooden spoon. First, you put the radio on and pour yourself a glass of wine, then you lay the foundations by softening the onion and fennel in butter – a pinch of salt helps this process. Next, you add the rice and stir. For a moment the pan seems a little dry – almost toasty. This is exactly what you want: in fact, this brief stage – when the grains are sealed and heated through – is called tostatura. Now you add the wine for the rice, which should whoosh as it hits the pan. Once the wine has been absorbed, you add the warm stock, gradually, the next ladleful added only when the previous one has been absorbed, all the while stirring firmly and steadily. It takes about 16 minutes for the rice to absorb all the stock – to plump up and almost triple in volume to a soft, rippling mass. Taste a grain or two: it should be tender, but with a slight bite. Lastly, add the remaining cold butter, grated cheese and lemon and leave it covered for a minute to rest. The final stage in this process is the mantecatura, when you beat the now melted butter and cheese into the rice – an amalgamation that transforms the risotto into a creamy, glossy whole.
As with so many things, the key to making risotto in this way – there are other ways – is practice; the easy everyday sort, as opposed to something dutiful like banging out musical scales. It is repetition that allows us to see and understand the changes that happen over the course of 20 minutes as seven ingredients fuse and transform. In the spirit of home cooking, it will always be slighty different every time, but hopefully always fragrant, satisfying and good.
Fennel and lemon risotto
Serves 4
1 large fennel bulb (about 400g)
2 litres vegetable or light chicken stock, or make your own as described below
75g cold butter
1 small white onion, or 2 shallots, chopped
320g risotto rice, ideally carnaroli or vialone nano
125ml dry white wine
Zest of a small, unwaxed lemon
60g parmesan, grated
A pinch of salt
1 Trim the fennel bulb, removing the thicker outer layer and finger-like stalks and setting aside any feathery fronds for decoration. To make a stock: put these trimmings, along with other vegetables and 2 litres of water, in a pot, bring to the boil, then reduce to a simmer for 40 minutes. Strain, then return to the saucepan. Set aside on the back of the stove.
2 Slice the trimmed bulb of fennel into slim arcs. In a large, deep frying pan or heavy saucepan, melt half the butter over a medium heat, then gently fry the onion and fennel with a pinch of salt, until soft and translucent.
3 Add the rice, stirring until every grain glistens and is heated through. Add the wine, which should whoosh as it hits the pan, then stir until it has been absorbed. Start adding stock a ladleful at a time, stirring firmly and allowing it to be absorbed before adding the next. The process will take about 16 minutes. Taste the rice: it is cooked when it is tender, but still with bite, and the risotto is still loose and rippling as opposed to stiff.
3 Turn off the heat, add the rest of the butter, the cheese and lemon zest. Cover the pan. Let it sit for 1 minute, then beat vigorously until the risotto is creamy and glossy. Taste and add salt, if you think it needs it. Divide between plates, decorating with fennel fronds, and a little lemon zest if you wish.
Rachel Roddy is an award-winning food writer based in Rome and the author of Five Quarters: Recipes and Notes from a Kitchen in Rome (Saltyard). @racheleats
