Giuseppe Verdi’s Risotto alla milanese

I happened to be reading about Giuseppe Verdi the other day and came upon an interesting nugget. Apparently, besides being a musical genius, he was quite the buongustaio. He was an avid host and loved enjoying fine meals with his friends and associates at his villa in Roncole and abroad.

He was also an accomplished home cook. His correspondence with friends includes extensive recipes, cooking tips and sundry culinary anecdotes. Although Verdi was born in the region of Emilia-Romagna, having spent much of his career and later life in Milan, he developed a taste for the local cuisine. Apparently, he was known among his friends and acquaintances for his rendition of the city’s signature dish, risotto alla milanese. As one letter from a friend attests:

 But at the end of the second act of La favorite he was recognized and they began to shout “Viva Verdi” and everyone, from the boxes to the pit, stood up to salute the Great Composer from Le Roncole.  If only they knew how well he composes risotto alla Milanese, God knows what ovations would have showered on his shoulders!

Verdi’s Risotto alla milanese

Verdi had his own rather quirky way of making the dish. We have Verdi’s recipe because his common law wife Giuseppina wrote it down in a letter to French theater empresario and Verdi’s sometime librettist Camille Du Locle. It seems Verdi had something of a rivalry in the kitchen with an actress named Adelaide Ristori. In her letter, Giuseppina says:

“By the way, if la Ristori believes she will hold supremacy in the matter of tagliatelli, Verdi counts on eclipsing her with risotto, which truly he makes in divine fashion.”

Verdi’s recipe includes quite a few deviations from the way risotto alla milanese is usually made today. For one thing, the rice is well toasted, not just until it loses its raw look but, as Giuseppina says, until it takes on a ‘lovely golden color’. Then there is no mantecatura—that final finish offheat vigorously stirring in grated cheese and sometimes butter as well. Instead, the cheese—and lots of it—is added midway through cooking. The recipe calls for sweet white wine, which is also added midway through. Today’s recipes call either for a dry white added right after toasting the rice, or none at all. (See the Notes below for a complete run down on the many ways it differs from today’s standard recipe.)

I was intrigued, so I decided to give Verdi’s curious recipe a try.

So how was it?

Verdi’s risotto is quite tasty. My only real complaint if I have one, is that I missed the usual mantecatura. Despite the copious amounts of butter and cheese, the risotto was noticeably less creamy than I like. And since you add the cheese—and lots of it—midway through the cooking process rather than at the end, it tastes, well, rather ‘cooked’, for lack of a better word. Not necessarily unpleasant, but I prefer the more delicate taste of just melted parmigiano-reggiano.

On the other hand, the use of sweet wine, which I thought would taste odd, didn’t bother me. In fact, it worked rather well in my opinion. But what may have surprised me the most was the color of Verdi’s risotto— not the bright gold that one usually associates with risotto alla milanese, but a rather darker, amber color, probably from the initial browning of the rice and the use of a rich beef broth. The recipe also calls for an optional topping of truffle shavings, but I stuck to the basic recipe. Besides the astronomic price tag, I don’t actually care for the taste. Shocking, I know…

All in all, while I don’t think it will replace the standard recipe in my affections, I rather enjoyed Verdi’s recipe despite its eccentricities.

As far as I can tell, the recipe hasn’t been translated into English, so I thought I’d share it with you, dear readers. It’s definitely worth a try—perhaps while enjoying Verdi’s music. I recommend the first act of La Traviata, in my opinion some of the most glorous opera music ever composed.

Ingredients

Serves 6-8

• 2 oz (50g) butter
• 2 oz (50g) bone marrow, minced
• 1/2 medium onion, finely chopped
• 1 lb (450 g) rice for risotto, preferably Carnaroli
• 2 quarts (2 liters) beef or mixed meat broth, preferably homemade
• sweet white wine
• 1-1/2 cups (100g) freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano cheese
• A small pinch of saffron
• A truffle (optional)

Directions

Bring the broth to the barest of simmers in the saucepan. In a small cup or bowl, add the saffron threads and then a few spoonfuls of hot broth. Keep the rest hot until needed,.

In a large saucier or sauté pan, gently sauté the chopped onion in the butter and bone marrow until it turns soft and translucent. Sprinkle in a few drops of water from time to time if need be to avoid browning.

Add the rice and let it sauté as well, until it is just beginning to brown.

Then add 2 or 3 ladlefuls of the broth to the rice, enough to cover the rice, give it a good stir and simmer until the broth has evaporated. Replenish it with another ladleful of broth and give it a good stir. Repeat, stirring from time to time, until the rice is cooked.

While the rice is simmering, after about 10-15 minutes, add the wine, then, a handful at a time, the grated parmigiano-reggiano.

Just before the rice is done cooking, stir in the saffron and its broth.

Remove from the heat and pour into a soup tureen. Serve immediately, optionally top with sliced truffle.

Notes on Verdi’s risotto alla milanese

Most of the tips you’ll find in our basic recipe for risotto apply here. But mutatis mutandis, as we lawyers say, given all the quirks in Verdi’s recipe, which you’ll find listed below. Other than that, success lies as always in choosing your ingredients with care.

Choosing the rice

The recipe calls for ‘riso di Piemonte‘ or rice from Piemonte, a region of Italy that indeed is a major producer of rice. I’m not clear on whether this means any rice grown there or perhaps the region’s prized riso di Baraggia Biellese e Vercellese DOP.

In any event, Piemonte also grows more common rice varietals for risotto, including Carnaroli, considered by many the risotto rice par excellence. And indeed it is the rice the Accademia della Cucina Italiana recommends in the ‘official’ recipe for risotto alla milanese. Personally I find it far superior to Arborio, which produces too much starch in my opinion. The only problem is that Carnaroli can be harder to find. I often have to resort to online shopping to source Carnaroli; it’s available via Amazon as well as, for North American readers, online stores like Gustiamo and Alma Gourmet. But if Arborio is all you can find, it will work of course.

Verdi’s recipe follows the classic recipe in its basic method and most of its ingredients. That said, it has a good number of ideosyncraicies as well. Most have to do with the order in which you add the ingredients, but also how well you toast and simmer the rice and, most suprising to me at least, its use of sweet wine.

Finding bone marrow

The trend for marrow bones in recently years means you can find them at better butchers and upscale supermarkets. Do make sure they’re selling you actual marrow (i.e., leg) bones and not, say, knuckle, which has happened to me more than once. It only has a tiny bit of marrow. Another way to go about it is to buy a piece or two of beef shank cut across the bone; the bone will contain a goodly amount of marrow, and you can use the bone and shank meat for broth or stew.

If you can’t source the bone marrow, then just double the amount of butter. The marrow does add a lovely depth of beefy flavor as well as richness, but the butter, of course, will at least provide the richness.

Broth

Giuseppina tells you to use a hot broth made with good ‘meat’ (brodo bollente fatto con buona carne). The word carne is the generic word for meat, but if you use it without futher context, it usually means beef, though for broth it could also mean one you make with a mix of beef, chicken and perhaps some veal, along with bones.

And you really should make your own broth for this dish if you can. It makes a world of difference. Risotto alla milanese in particular doesn’t have other strong flavors going on, except perhaps for the saffron, so the end result really relies heavily on the quality of the broth.

Comparing Verdi’s recipe with the ‘official’ recipe for risotto alla milanese

Here is a point by point comparison of Verdi’s recipe with the “official” recipe as registered with the Accademia della Cucina Italiana:

• You sauté the rice until it is “toasted and has taken on a lovely golden color”. Normally one sautés the rice only until it turns translucent.
• The recipe calls for ‘vino bianco, naturale e dolce‘, white wine, natural and sweet. Normally you use a dry white for risotto, if any. The “official” recipe for risotto alla milanese doesn’t call for wine. I’m not entirely sure how literally I should take this instruction, but I went ahead and used a Gewürztrammer. It was slightly sweet but not at all cloying. As I said above, to my surprise I though it worked well.
• You add the wine midway through cooking, rather than rice after the rice and before you start to add the broth.
• You add the cheese midway through cooking. You normally stir it in vigorously right before serving, to develop its creaminess.
• Speaking of which, the recipe refers to 15 minutes being halfway through cooking—by implication, this means cooking the rice for 30 minutes. This is longer than most risotto recipes, which usually call for 15-20 minutes of simmering. Here again, I wasn’t sure. Did 19th century rice take longer to cook, or did they enjoy softer rice in those days? In the event, it worked fine. The rice was a bit softer than usual but not at all mushy.
• And finally Verdi has you add the saffron just before serving, which makes the risotto a very saffron forward. Though it didn’t color the rice as much as you get when you add it earlier. The “official recipe” calls for adding it midway through simmering, unless you are using ground saffron.

Comparing Verdi’s and Artusi’s recipes

A lot of classic Italian recipes have evolved over time. However eccentric it seems today, perhaps Verdi’s recipe was typical for his time? I tend to think not. In perhaps the best known Italian cookbook of that era, Artusi’s roughly contemporary recipe for risotto alla milanese (No. 79, his second of two, actually) is very much like today’s standard recipe. He tells you to add white wine (not sweet, though he doesn’t specify) right after the rice and before the broth. And he calls for the usual mantecatura with butter and cheese right before serving. His recipe also includes saffron dissolved in broth, but he neglects to mention when to add it.

Verdi’s Use of Measurements

One interesting factoid I discovered when I found this recipe. It uses measurements in once or ounces. Yes, that funny unit of measurement—still used in the US but almost nowhere else—was apparently used in much of Italy before unification, even if it became increasingly used in the course of the 19th century and was officially adopted by the newborn Kingdom of Italy in 1861. Surprisingly, it was only in the late 20th century (1982) that the metric system became obligatory. Hence, contrary to my usual practice, I’ve provided Imperial measurements first in this recipe.

But here’s the catch: According to this Italian Wikipedia article, the actual weight varied by region. In Tuscany, one oncia was equivalent to 28.3 grams, which is very close to its modern equivalent of 28.35 grams. But in Forli, north of the Appenines it was 24 grams. And since Verdi was Le Roncole. also north of the Appenines, it’s possible his oncia was also 24 grams. But for simplicity’s sake, I’ve stuck to the modern ounce and called it a day. After all, the ratios remain constant anyway.

Another lovely varietal for risotto—and my personal favorite—is Vialone Nano from the Veneto, this article says is de rigueur in Mantova for making risotto alla milanese. Finally, if push comes to shove and you can’t find any of these varietals, then look for a medium or short grain rice rather than long grain varietal.

The original text of Verdi’s recipe for risotto alla milanese

For those of you who read Italian, here’s the text of Giuseppina’s recipe, which I found here. She wrote the recipe for French theater empresario and Verdi’s sometime librettist Camille Du Locle so I imagine the original recipe was probably in French. But this is as close as I’ve been able to get.

Mettete in una casseruola due once di burro fresco; due once di midollo di bue, o vitello, con un poco di cipolla tagliata. Quando questa abbia preso il rosso mettete nella casseruola sedici once di riso di Piemonte: fate passare a fuoco ardente mischiando spesso con un cucchiaio di legno finché il riso sia abbrustolito ed abbia preso un bel color d’oro. Prendete del brodo bollente, fatto con buona carne e mettetene due o tre mescoli nel riso. Quando il fuoco l’avrà a poco a poco asciugato, rimettete poco brodo e sempre fino a perfetta cottura del riso. Avvertite però, che a metà della cottura del riso (ciò sarà dopo un quarto d’ora che il riso sarà nella casseruola) bisognerà mettervi un mezzo bicchiere di vino bianco, naturale e dolce: mettete anche, una dopo l’altra, tre buone manate di formaggio parmigiano grattato rapè. Quando il riso sia quasi completamente cotto, prendete una presa di zafferano che farete sciogliere in un cucchiaio di brodo, gettatelo nel risotto, mischiatelo, e ritiratelo dal fuoco, versatelo nella zuppiera. Avendo dei tartufi, tagliateli ben fini e spargeteli sul risotto a guisa di formaggio. Altrimenti mettetevi formaggio solo. Coprite e servite subito

Making risotto alla milanese ahead and leftovers

You can and should make the beef broth ahead. But like all risottos, you really should make risotto alla milanese when you want to eat it. That said, if you really must, you can use a little restaurant trick and cook the risotto halfway through, say just before you are supposed to add the cheese. Remove it from the heat and then cool it quickly by spreading the semi-cooked rice out on a greased baking sheet. Then when you’re ready to eat, put the rice back into the pot with a good ladleful of hot broth, bring it to a simmer, then proceed from there.

You can fry leftover risotto alla milanese in butter like a pancake to make a lovely dish in its own right called risotto al salto. For me presonally, it’s at least as good as the original dish. One of these days I’ll get around to posting the recipe, but there’s not much more to it than that. In the meanwhile, if you want a deep dive into the intricacies, you can check out this article from Serious Eats.

More on Dining with Verdi

There’s a whole book entitled Dining with Verdi (Mondatori) that looks in depth at Verdi’s love affair with good food. Sadly it’s out of print, and I haven’t been able to find it online, but it’s ably reviewed in this lovely article from Lost Past Remembered, one of my favorite blogs.

A final note

A word to the wise: There exists a completely different dish called risotto alla Giuseppe Verdi. It’s a rather elaborate risotto made with prosciutto, tomatoes, mushrooms and asparagus (or in some recipes artichokes) and finished with butter, parmgiano-reggiano and cream.

Risotto alla Verdi isn’t Verdi’s recipe. In fact, as far as I can determine, he never tasted it. Although perhaps inspired by Verdi’s recipe, the dish was actually invented by famed Belle Epoque French chef Henri-Paul Pellaprat in his honor, likely after Verdi’s death. But that’s a recipe for another post.