Risotto alla Zucca

There is no cream in authentic risotto. I say this first because Americans reach for the carton before they understand what risotto is. The creaminess you seek comes from the rice itself, from the starch released through patient stirring and the final vigorous beating with cold butter and cheese. Add cream and you have made something else entirely.

Risotto alla zucca belongs to the flatlands of the Po Valley, where rice paddies stretch to the horizon and winter squash grows sweet in the autumn chill. Mantua claims it. So does Ferrara. The farmers' wives of Lombardy made it for centuries before restaurants discovered it. They roasted their squash in wood-fired ovens until the edges caramelized, then folded it into rice cooked with nothing more than broth, butter, and the local cheese.

The technique is not complicated, but it demands your attention for twenty minutes. You cannot leave. You cannot multitask. The rice needs your presence, ladle after ladle, stir after stir. This is meditation as much as cooking. Those unwilling to give it time should make something else.