Aside from including one of the best descriptions of eating an orange I’ve read, A Time in Rome by the Irish writer Elizabeth Bowen is an evocative account of a city, its architecture, its atmosphere, its daily rhythms. Bowen finds the perfect words for “the utter blank” in the middle of the Roman day, “announced by the clanging down of black iron shutters, which before owners go off to lunch they stoop to lock”. Almost 60 years have passed since she wrote those lines, yet they still ring true, especially during the white-hot days of summer in Piazza Testaccio, when the ceremonious yanking down of shop shutters really does feel like the city is shutting its eyes for a nap.
Depending on the shop and the heat, shutters and serrande are pulled back up between 4pm and 5.30pm and, gradually, people start returning to the piazza. Kids who have been cooped up in darkened rooms since lunchtime are like springs uncoiling, scooting, kicking balls or each other, while everyone else clusters around the two dozen benches and fixed iron tables that fringe the vast square. From utter blank to a hive of Roman life. Then, at about 6.30pm, when the sun is at a comfortable angle and the summery air cooler at the edges, there are the first sightings of luminous drinks.
Undeterred by the fact they don’t have their own tables, the waiters at the bar run by two Neapolitan brothers have made the piazza their own. You have to go in to order at the counter, pointing in the vague direction of where you are sitting before being told to go back there. A few minutes later you will spot your order – a beer, a chinotto, a Fanta, a prosecco, a spritz luminous with orange Aperol or pink-red Campari, a Negroni, or an americano in a proper glass – balanced on a small round tray, being navigated around bambini and footballs across the piazza to you, soon followed by a small festa of crisps, peanuts, olives the size of small plums and various toasted sandwiches. These days, my piazza drink is an americano: equal parts Campari, Martini rosso and soda, or simply a Martini rosso on ice (lots). Some find this odd, as they consider Martini a mixer. I have not progressed much beyond the sips, taken as a nine-year-old at my gran’s pub, of what felt like the most exotic and racy drink, sweet, spiced and syrupy red, with enough ice to numb my lips.
That Martini rosso is what I grab when I make tomato risotto, too, which – like my favoured piazza tipple – is not as odd as it may sound. It is a quirk taught to me by the same person who taught me his five steps of risotto, which have stuck in my memory like a rhyme. It is a template for endless variations. You add the vegetable, fish or meat depending on how much cooking it can handle. Tomatoes are also acidic, which is where the Martini comes in, lending that nip of sharp sweetness, tempered into dinner happiness by the butter and parmesan.
Risotto al pomodoro – tomato risotto
Prep 15 min
Cook 30 min
Serves 4
1 small onion
4 tbsp olive oil
80g butter
Salt and black pepper
400g risotto rice (arborio or carnaroli)
100ml white wine or 50ml martini rosso
500g ripe tomatoes, skinned and chopped
1.5-2 litres water/light vegetable or chicken stock
75g grated parmesan
Peel and finely dice the onion. In a large, deep frying pan or casserole over a medium-low flame, fry the onion in the olive oil, half the butter and a pinch of salt, until soft and translucent. Put the wateror stock in a pan and bring to a simmer at the back of the stove.
Add the rice to the onion and stir until every grain glistens, then add the wine or martini and stir while it evaporates. Add the tomatoes and another pinch of salt and stir.
Now glance at the clock – this will take about 17 minutes. Begin adding the water or stock a ladleful at a time, stirring until it is absorbed before adding another. After about 14 minutes, start tasting: the risotto is ready when the rice is plump, but still al dente, meaning with a slight resistance but not chalky, with the consistency nice and moist, ready to absorb the butter and cheese at the next stage. You may or may not use all the liquid.
Pull the risotto from the heat and leave it to rest for a minute, then beat in the second half of the butter, all the cheese and a few grinds of black pepper. Serve, passing around more cheese for those who want it.
