Gathering in a Cloistered Time – Zoomsotto

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This risotto recipe was written up for a unique ”Zoomsotto” visit with Penny, Thüring, Mary and Ted in May 2020, while we were all sheltering in place – in Gainesville, Basel and Los Angeles. This was the time of a planned/cancelled visit to Sicily.  We cooked and ate “together”, connecting across time zones and continents with laughter, conversation and appreciation.        

I first learned about risotto from Adele Barbini in her tiny, lively restaurant in Trevi. She introduced the measure, “un pugno” (a fistful, of rice or of pasta) and the notion that the rice might like a bit of wine. She was a welcoming teacher and set me on my cooking journey.

The garden has benefitted from the quarantine, so our risotto was made with fresh zucchini flowers, while Penny used spring asparagus in Basel and Mary, celery in L.A.. We cook this soothing dish regularly with family and friends, so it comes to the table layered with warm memories, memories now richly joined by the Zoomsotto experience.

Risotto/Zoomsotto

6 servings. We use organic ingredients as possible, but what you have on hand will be great. Leftovers are good, can become rice croquets, aka supplì al telefono. Adapt as needed.

Ingredients

1.5 cups of Arborio rice, rinsed  

1 T + good olive oil 

1 minced shallot (or small onion or scallions)

½ cup white wine (optional, can just increase the broth/water)

5-6 cups of vegetable broth, heated (homemade or bouillon or even miso broth)

Optional touch of saffron and/or a pinch of sweet curry

1 – 2 T of butter 

Grated Parmesan (or other cheese; we were in isolation, after all)

Salt and pepper to taste

Optional – Something you are adding in: e.g., zucchini blossoms, lemon, celery, radicchio, tomatoes, artichoke hearts, sautéed mushrooms…)

1. In a heavy pan, sauté the shallot in the olive oil and 1 T. butter until it colors slightly. 

2. Add the rice and stir/coat for a few minutes. Add the wine and stir/deglaze as it absorbs.

3. Add heated broth in ½ cup portions and stir to keep from sticking until rice is cooked and creamy but still a bit firm. (20-30 minutes).  If you run out of broth, add water.  Your optional ingredient goes in here, after some liquid has been incorporated. 

4. As the risotto gets close to finished, stir in other 1T butter and some of the cheese. Salt and pepper to taste.  

5. Serve with grated Parmesan and a beautiful green salad. Enjoy Gathering.

Convened by Owls

Has it been an entire month since the little owl fell from the nest?  How to gauge a day, a week, a month in this time of pandemic. In a single breath, we sigh: “The days go so fast “ and “It feels like forever”.  We had been watching a pair of baby owls with a daily gathering of neighbors, when one disappeared on April 21. A lone owlet gazed back at us that Tuesday, and we were uneasy.  Underneath the joy of leaving the isolation of our homes to gather and witness the owl family, we had known something could go wrong. 

Days before, we passed our neighbor peering up into a great oak in her front yard.  An expert friend of birds, she pointed to a pair of tiny owls solemnly looking down, fuzzy heads, big dark eyes and little beaks just visible. Over the next few days, – with a growing group of people – we watched them with delight and relief.  (Ok, everything’s ok.  Another day of isolating; another day of baby owls safe in the nest, their parents nearby, protective, delivering carryout.) Then, that Tuesday, one was missing, leaving the sadness of many losses in its place.

Incredibly, another neighbor, a photographer and bird whisperer, discovered the fallen sibling in brush below the oak, cradling it for two hours while someone from Wildlife Care arrived. The word was that it would be returned on Saturday, if all went well.  For the rest of that week, the gathering grew, morning and evening, breath held and hopes pinned on the remaining owlet, now trying out some fancy teetering on the edges of the nest.  (Dude, stay safe, be well, take care. Consider wearing a tiny mask as you venture out. Just saying.) It was heartening to be in a group, albeit a socially distancing one, all gazing in wonder at a nest thirty feet above us, in the branches of a tree that was alive during the pandemic a century ago. Walking in the mornings with our dog, Willa, and biking in the evenings, we looked forward to seeing who was there, owls above and humans below.

On Saturday, as promised, an intrepid Wildlife Care team arrived, with the fallen owlet nestled in a cobalt blue plastic bucket.  A member roped up and delivered the little one back to its nest and family. Against some odds, it worked!  (See, stuff can work out! We can reconnect after being apart. All will be well.)

Over the next days, friends and families, children and grandchildren came on foot and on bikes, carrying phones, binoculars, serious cameras with long lenses – and the odd cocktail. One father often brought his girls because, he said, “I’m forty years old, and I’ve never even seen baby owls before.  They will always remember this.”  I’m glad baby owls will be one of their memories of this unique time. And nightly bike rides with the whole family. And friendly people, captivated by nature, looking up, together. We are grateful, too.

I heard our neighbor ask children if they had names for the owls, and I wondered if she had named her visitors.  In response, she told the story of once naming an elegant koi and the extra measure of sadness around its demise. We shared our experience of naming wildlife, a tale that concludes with a local gator hunter telling me, “Well…I wouldn’t be naming those ducks.” 

So we didn’t own up to our silly names for the owlets, Big Boy and Fuzzy Bunny.  (“Big Boy” is provisional, as someone from Wildlife Care said that only genetic testing reveals an owl’s gender with certainty.)  Though Fuzzy Bunny had packed on the grams in its time away, Big Boy was twice the size of his sibling. He led the way in Wallenda walking up the oak and out onto swaying branches, tentatively stretching his new barred wings. 

Within a short week, they had both fledged and rapidly expanded their territory even as we retreated back towards ours. We carry with us images of little ones growing strong in tenuous times, their times – and one hopeful celebration of community convened by nature.