For Monet

One of the things that surprised me the most when I started blogging was becoming part of a community. The blogosphere may be a virtual place, but everything about the support, the friendship and the comraderie that thrives in the foodie blogging community is real. I have seen virtual babyshowers held for expecting moms that live on the other side of the world. I have gotten teary over pictures of children and laughed until my stomach hurt over stories about them. I have felt emotional reading posts about mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers, friends and partners. We spend time with these people pretty much every day, we often read their innermost thoughts. Time passes and we become friends, without really even noticing it.

The story that touched me the most since I entered this world was Monet's. She is a young, inspired and inspirational young woman who has been through a lot of hardship in the past years. A few months ago she lost some close members of her family in a tragic accident and through her words we have been experiencing her pain, her bereavement, her rediscovery of the small joys of life, things that make her smile.

When all this happened two of her blogging friends, Liz and Kate, decided to do something that would let Monet know that many of her followers were thinking of her, there for her, close to her. Since we are all united by the love of food and creating it, they thought it would be nice to create a book of comforting recipes. They asked each of us to send one from our blog that warms our souls and that brings us comfort. They then worked hard and long to put them all together and send her the book.

Monet has asked that we all share our recipes today.

I am honored to share my recipe, to be a part of this community. To Monet and her family, but mostly to Pam and to Jeremy.

Click on the link below for the full recipe and post.

Ossobuco with risotto alla Milanese

Ossobuco alla milanese (or braised veal shanks)

He sat on the scaffolding suspended from the cupola and shook his wrist for a few seconds, trying to ease the cramping of his fingers. He had been working on this window depicting St. Joseph for an hour, or maybe more he decided looking through the beautiful stained glass at the sun, which had moved considerably higher since he had last checked. Vincenzo had arrived from Leuven, Flanders with many others from all over Europe to work in the Venerable Factory of the Duomo, the construction site for the enormous gothic cathedral that was being built in the wealthy Duchy of Milan. The colors of his glass were renown because they were particularly striking, especially the yellow inserts. His secret was that he always added a touch of saffron when preparing the glass.  He decided to stop for a quick lunch, suspended in the air because there was always much to do and little time to climb down and chat with the others. He had brought a bowl of rice, which grew plentiful in the countryside surrounding the city and was cheap to buy, to work. He untied the knot in the cloth that he had wrapped his lunch in and just as he was moving his work utensils to the side, a fellow worker hollered from the scaffolding above.

"Perfundavalle! Buon appetito!".

Startled, he knocked over a tiny jar of the precious saffron he carried with his tools at all times and a little fell into the wooden bowl of rice. Vae! he mumbled in Latin, this was not good. So much waste of prized saffron and a ruined lunch! His stomach grumbled as he thought about what to do. He decided to taste the rice anyway, he was too hungry to wait till sunset and he had some wine to wash it down with. After all, saffron was a plant, how bad could it be? He stuck his fingers in the bowl, took a few kernels of rice, closed his eyes and stuffed them in his mouth. He chewed slowly, ready to spit out the offending bite. He chewed some more and sides of his mouth turned up into a big smile. This was delicious! Who would have ever thought saffron was so good? And the rice looked as beautiful as it tasted, with its yellow hue.

That is how the legend goes, regarding the birth of Milan's most famous dish, risotto giallo or allo zafferano. It is a versatile dish that can be eaten many different ways, as a first course or as a main course served with ossobuco, like the recipe I posted. It is always good to make in abundance so you have leftovers for riso al salto the next day, a crunchy, thin, pan-fried version of the rice beloved to all Milanese.

As you may or may have not have noticed, it has been a while since I last posted. I was offered a very interesting work opportunity last week that I couldn't turn down, despite the deadline being atrociously near, the amount of work being quite daunting and the fact that I have a full time job and pretty noisy children. This job involves writing, translating, researching to a certain extent. I am reading a lot on historical and artistic facts about the Duomo, Milan's cathedral.

It just so happened that when I received the file on the Duomo in my mailbox, I had 4 ossobuchi defrosting in my fridge. The more I read and wrote about the past glory of this town and the immense human and artistic effort made for decades, even centuries, to build the cathedral, the more I was excited to be preparing this dish for my family. Besides being one of F's favorite dishes, it somehow just made sense with its perfect timing, it made me feel connected to this city that often seems unattractive but that has some beautiful hidden secrets if you are willing to scratch a little beneath the surface. And so here is my ode to Milan, Oss bus a la milanesa con gremolata.