Creamy Highland fungi in their finest hour
Autumn in the Highlands means the forest floor is having a party — chanterelles, girolles, puffballs — and you'd be mad not to crash it. This risotto is what you make when you've spent a damp morning foraging and come home with your pockets full and your boots ruined. It's pure comfort, nothing fancy, just good rice and better mushrooms.
Warm your vegetable stock in a separate pot — you want it steaming when you need it. This matters more than you'd think. Cold stock is the enemy of a good risotto.
Clean your wild mushrooms gently with a damp cloth — don't wash them like you're doing laundry. Slice them thickly (about 1cm), keeping different types separate so they cook evenly. Heat 20g of butter in a wide pan over high heat and sear them in batches, 3–4 minutes each, until golden. They should colour, not steam. Season and set aside.
Dice your shallots finely and sweat them gently in the remaining 40g butter in a wide, heavy-bottomed pan over medium heat, about 2 minutes. You want soft and translucent, not coloured. Add the rice, stir it constantly for 2–3 minutes until each grain is coated and slightly toasted — you'll hear a faint crackling sound.
Pour in the wine and let it sizzle down until almost dry, stirring often — this takes a minute or so. The rice should smell slightly sweet and toasty. Now, add your warm stock one ladle at a time, stirring frequently, waiting for each ladle to be mostly absorbed before adding the next. This takes about 18–20 minutes. The rice should go from hard to creamy, grain by grain.
When the rice is tender but still has a slight bite (al dente, not mushy), fold in the seared mushrooms and thyme leaves. Taste it. Now add the Parmesan and taste again. You might not need salt — the cheese does work. The consistency should be loose and flow gently on a plate, not stiff like porridge.
“Spoon it into a warm bowl or shallow plate. Let it settle for 30 seconds — risotto is not in a hurry. Finish with a small curl of fresh Parmesan, a crack of black pepper, and a single thyme sprig. The beauty of this dish is in its simplicity; don't overthink it. Serve immediately, while it's still warm and moving slightly.”
First spoonful hits you with earthiness and butter, the mushrooms adding a deep, almost loamy sweetness. The rice is creamy but loose, each grain separate and tender. There's a whisper of white wine acidity cutting through the richness, and the Parmesan adds a savoury hum that lingers. By the last spoonful, you realize you've eaten comfort in the most elegant way possible — no effort, all reward.
Skip the butter (use good olive oil instead), lose the Parmesan, and finish with nutritional yeast and a squeeze of lemon juice — you'll get umami and acid in place of the cheese's savouriness. The mushrooms are already doing most of the heavy lifting, so you won't miss much. Some folk add a touch of white miso to the stock to deepen things further. The result is lighter, brighter, and every bit as satisfying.
Crisp, mineral, unapologetic. Cuts through the butter and cheese like a knife, leaves you wanting another spoonful.
Light and aromatic; doesn't overpower the mushrooms, just nudges them along.
Earthy hops echo the fungi. The slight bitterness balances the cream beautifully.
Sipped between bites, it extends the earthy theme without stealing the show.
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