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Risotto Recipe — The Dish That Holds a Marriage Together

Valentine's Day on Wednesday. Third year of making Connie a Valentine's dinner. I made the shrimp and grits again because it's our thing now and because some traditions are worth repeating even when — especially when — the world is difficult. The grits were cheesy. The shrimp were perfect. Clay was, mercifully, at Tyler's house without being bribed, because even Clay can read a room and the room said "your parents need a night."

Connie wore the earrings I'd bought her — small, simple, silver. I wore a clean shirt. We sat at the table with candles and the old country station playing and we ate and we talked and for two hours we didn't talk about the Army. We talked about the early days — our first apartment in Evarts, the size of a closet, with a stove that listed to the left and a bathroom you could only use sideways. We talked about the time Travis ate a crayon and Connie called poison control and the woman on the phone asked what color and Connie said "Red, is that important?" and the woman said "No, I just like to know."

We laughed. We haven't laughed enough lately. Laughter requires an absence of fear, or at least a temporary pause in fear, and fear has been a permanent resident in this house since Christmas. But on Valentine's Day, with shrimp and grits and candles and Patsy Cline, we found the pause. We laughed about the crayon and about Earl Jr.'s wedding where the cake fell and about the time I tried to make Betty's stack cake for the first time and it was three layers instead of six because the layers stuck together and I was left with a cake that looked like a hockey puck and tasted like shame.

After dinner, Connie said "We're going to be okay." Not "Clay is going to be okay" — we don't know that. "We're going to be okay." She meant us. The marriage. The thing that has survived a mine collapse and a drinking problem and a career change and a bad back and now a son going to war. We. Are. Going. To. Be. Okay. She said it with the certainty of a woman who has made a decision and the decision is to survive, and I believe her because Connie has never once in twenty-six years told me something that wasn't true. The truth is sometimes hard and sometimes late but it's always true.

I said "That'll do." She smiled. The candles flickered. Patsy sang. The shrimp was gone and the grits were cold and the night was enough.

If shrimp and grits is our tradition, risotto is its close cousin — the other dish I reach for when the night needs to mean something. Both take patience, both reward attention, and both have a way of filling a quiet kitchen with something that smells like effort and tastes like care. If you want to make your own version of what Connie and I shared — something warm, something slow, something worth sitting down for — this is the recipe I’d hand you. Add shrimp if you want. Light a candle either way.

Creamy Risotto

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 6 cups low-sodium chicken or vegetable broth
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 1/2 cups Arborio rice
  • 1/2 cup dry white wine
  • 3/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped (optional)
  • Optional add-in: 1 lb large shrimp, peeled and deveined, seasoned with salt, pepper, and a pinch of smoked paprika

Instructions

  1. Warm the broth. Pour the broth into a medium saucepan over low heat. Keep it warm but not boiling throughout the cooking process — cold broth slows the rice and throws off the texture.
  2. Build the base. In a large, heavy-bottomed skillet or Dutch oven, melt 1 tablespoon of butter with the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more.
  3. Toast the rice. Add the Arborio rice to the pan and stir to coat in the butter and oil. Toast for 1 to 2 minutes, until the edges of the grains look slightly translucent. This step builds flavor — don’t skip it.
  4. Add the wine. Pour in the white wine and stir constantly until it’s fully absorbed, about 2 minutes. The pan will smell good here. Let yourself notice that.
  5. Add broth, one ladle at a time. Add the warm broth one ladleful (about 1/2 cup) at a time, stirring frequently and waiting until each addition is almost fully absorbed before adding the next. This process takes 20 to 25 minutes and it cannot be rushed. Stay close to the stove. This is the part where you pour yourself a glass of that wine.
  6. Test for doneness. The risotto is ready when the rice is tender but still has a slight bite at the center and the mixture is creamy and flows slowly when you tilt the pan — not soupy, not stiff. You may not need all the broth.
  7. Optional — cook the shrimp. If adding shrimp, cook them separately in a hot skillet with a little butter for 1 to 2 minutes per side until pink and just opaque. Set aside and fold in just before serving.
  8. Finish and serve. Remove the pan from heat. Stir in the remaining 1 tablespoon of butter and the Parmesan until melted and glossy. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. Spoon into warm bowls, top with extra Parmesan and parsley if using, and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 12g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 58g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 620mg

Craig Hensley
About the cook who shared this
Craig Hensley
Week 99 of Craig’s 30-year story · Lexington, Kentucky
Craig is a retired coal miner from Harlan County, Kentucky — a man who spent twenty years underground and seventeen hours trapped in a collapsed tunnel before he was twenty-four. He moved his family to Lexington when the mine closed, learned to cook his mama Betty's Appalachian recipes from memory because she never wrote them down, and now he's trying to get them on paper before they're lost. He says "reckon" and "fixing to" and means both. His bourbon-glazed ribs are, according to his wife Connie, "acceptable" — which is the highest praise she gives.

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