MR RICE

It all started when I was seven and my grandma let me wandering freely in her kitchen. My mum never let me, so I took advantage of the situation. I made my first rice cake and I forgot to cook the rice. My grandma loved me that much that she ate the cake without complaining, although she did loose some teeth in the process.

And I learned you must cook the rice. In a broth, before adding mushrooms, peas or prawns.

It's a delicate operation. Like a relationship. All the ingredients come together with different cooking times. You must understand. The girl falls in love first. Like the prawns. The boy takes time. Like the rice. It's hard and cold, before you put him in the sautéed onions. Then he starts to loosen up.

The risotto is the perfect merging of the two. It's a question of love. Rice cooks slowly while the prawns melt and declare their love immediately. It's a question of timing, like all things in life.

Before you know it, the prawns may be way overcooked and the rice is still stiff.

And you wished you went for a safe boiled rice instead. Like choosing an average relationship instead of going for the real thing.

Needless to say that making a risotto is very hard.

But when you get it, the creaminess, the crispiness and the softness of the risotto will remind you that you did make it.

It's love. And you are in heaven.