Buttery, umami-rich, and proof you don't need meat to eat well.
This is what you make when the rain's coming in sideways and you've just tramped through the mist picking chanterelles, puffballs, and whatever else the forest's thrown your way. I've cooked this in a bothty, in a cottage, in a proper kitchen — it's forgiving and warm. The secret's in the stock and the patience; rush it and you'll regret it.
Pour your 1200ml stock into a saucepan and bring to a gentle simmer. Keep it there — you want it hot when the rice meets it, not a shock to the system. Add the thyme sprigs and let them whisper into the broth.
Wipe mushrooms with a damp cloth (don't drown them). Tear the bigger ones into thumb-sized pieces, leave smaller ones whole. You want texture, not mushroom paste. Set aside.
Heat a large, heavy-bottomed pan over medium heat. Dice the onion fine and cook it in half the butter (37g) until it's soft and translucent, about 4 minutes. You should smell sweetness, not brown bits. Add the rice and stir constantly for 2 minutes — it'll smell toasty and each grain should be coated.
Pour in the white wine and stir until it's nearly absorbed (about 2 minutes). The smell will sharpen — that's the wine doing its job, cutting the richness. Now you're ready for the stock.
Add the hot stock one ladleful at a time, stirring frequently. Wait until each ladleful is mostly absorbed (about 3-4 minutes between additions) before adding the next. After about 15 minutes, add the mushrooms and stir them through. Keep tasting — the rice should be creamy but with a slight bite in the centre of each grain. Total cooking time: about 18-20 minutes.
When the rice is nearly there — creamy, not soupy — remove from heat. Stir in the remaining 38g butter and the Parmesan. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. The risotto should flow slightly on the plate, not stand like a rice pudding. Serve immediately into warm bowls.
“Spoon into a warm bowl so it keeps its flow. A scatter of flaky sea salt, a crack of black pepper, maybe a shaving of extra Parmesan. Don't fuss — the mushrooms are already doing the heavy lifting. A small knob of cold butter on top if you're feeling fancy, but honestly, you've earned your supper without it.”
First spoonful: creamy, nutty from the rice and butter, then the earthy punch of the mushrooms kicks in. The wine's acidity keeps it bright; the Parmesan adds savory depth without shouting. By the last bite, you're tasting pure autumn — damp soil, forest floor, the kind of meal that makes you forget it's dark outside.
Swap the butter for good-quality vegan butter (Naturli or Miyoko's, about 75g total) and use a quality vegan Parmesan alternative (cashew-based works best, 80g grated). Everything else stays exactly the same — the mushrooms do all the heavy lifting, and the risotto will be just as creamy and satisfying. Use vegetable stock (many are vegan by default; check the label). The dish loses nothing and gains nothing but a clear conscience.
The minerality echoes the earthiness of the mushrooms; acidity cuts through the butter without apology.
Citrus and slight bitterness complement the umami; pairs beautifully with the richness.
Echoes the flavours already on the plate; sip between spoonfuls for added depth.
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