What autumn tastes like when you've been foraging since dawn
This is what happens when you've had a good morning in the hills picking chanterelles, ceps, and whatever else the rain's coaxed up. The risotto's the warm end to that story — a chance to taste exactly where you've been walking. I've learned to use a mix of wild and cultivated mushrooms because honestly, you can't always find enough wild ones, and there's no shame in that.
Pour stock into a pot and bring it to a gentle simmer with the bay leaf and thyme. Keep it there — you want it hot when it hits the rice, not a shock to the system. This takes 5 minutes max if you're using decent shop stock.
Brush soil off wild mushrooms with a damp cloth — don't wash them, they'll turn to mush. Slice thicker ones, halve the smaller ones. You want them about the size of a thumb joint so they don't disappear into the risotto. This is the meditative bit.
Heat a large, heavy pan (cast iron is perfect) over medium-high heat with 30g of the butter. When it's foaming, work the mushrooms in batches — don't crowd the pan. You want colour, not steam. They'll release liquid first, then sear. Takes about 8-10 minutes for all of them. Season as you go. Set them aside.
Same pan, add another 20g butter and the diced onion. Low-medium heat, let it turn translucent and sweet, about 5 minutes. Don't brown it — you want sweetness, not colour. Stir occasionally, let your mind wander.
Tip the rice into the pan with the onion. Stir constantly for 2 minutes — it'll turn translucent at the edges and smell nutty. This stops it going gluey. You're building texture now.
Add hot stock a ladle at a time, stirring frequently. Wait until the rice has absorbed each ladle before adding the next — this is not a set-and-forget dish. About 18-20 minutes total. The rice should be creamy but still bite back slightly. Halfway through, stir the mushrooms back in with any juices they've released.
Take the pan off the heat. Stir in the remaining 50g butter cut into chunks, and the Parmesan. Season hard — risotto drinks salt. The butter should melt into a loose, creamy mess. If it feels tight, add a splash of warm stock. Serve immediately into warm bowls.
“Spoon the risotto into warm bowls — it should flow slightly, not sit there like cement. The mushrooms should be visible, scattered through. A grind of black pepper, maybe a tiny thyme leaf on top, and a shaving of Parmesan. Don't fuss. It looks better when you leave it alone.”
First spoonful is rich and creamy with a whisper of peat from the mushrooms — earthy in the way that tastes like rain and soil. The rice has tooth still. Middle of the plate: umami builds, the thyme's herbal and sharp, the Parmesan salty. Last bite: the burnt butter note lingers, warm and nutty, and you want another bowl immediately.
Use vegetable stock throughout. Replace the butter and Parmesan with 100g of good-quality vegan butter and 60g of nutritional yeast stirred in at the end. The yeast gives you that savoury, umami hit. You lose a little richness, but honestly? The mushrooms are the star anyway. Toast the rice in the vegan butter and onions exactly the same way — the technique is everything.
Earthy, slightly tannic red that meets the mushrooms halfway and doesn't shout
Malty sweetness without heaviness; if it's from a Highland brewery, even better
Sounds daft but it's brilliant — echoes the risotto's earthiness without competing
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