Risotto Nero Novels & Stories

By the time they started to eat, the storm had fully begun. It was raining heavily like Alfonso said it would. The dining table was filled with all sorts of delicacies, ranging from lobster, chicken scarpariello, Risotto alla Milanese, Braciole, and so on. Some that she did not know what their name was. They ate while having small discussions. The dinner felt intimate and warm. She realized that she loved gatherings like this. Maybe it was because she did not do stuff like that most time when she was younger.

He planted a small kiss on my forehead before gently pulling me inside and closing the door. "The dishes are ready. Let's eat," said the young man then guided me into the kitchen again and pulled me to a chair. The fragrant smell of what he was cooking stung my nose. He placed a vegetable-like soup in front of me. "This is ribollita, a bread with vegetable soup," he said then put down another bowl with only one red meatball. "This is arancini, an italian rice balls coated with bread crumbs and deep fried," he again put down a bowl filled with cerelac-like vanilla flavor and its aroma. "And, this is polenta, a boiled cornmeal."

“Lead the way.” His chef had prepared the meal hours earlier. Risotto alla Milanese arrived creamy and fragrant with saffron, each grain glistening like polished gold. Ossobuco followed — veal shanks slow-braised until the meat fell from the bone, the marrow rich and silky. A subtle, aromatic Italian white wine — cool, floral, with minerality that cut through the richness — accompanied every bite.

Ossonuco Alla Milanese—braised veal shanks, slow-cooked in a luxurious white wine and saffron sauce, served with creamy polenta. “Geez!” Lina exclaimed, dragging the plate closer. “This is a tender fall of the bone perfection and I am down for it!” Rosealba let out a soft chuckle, rubbing her palms together. She reached for a plate that contained Gnocchi Gorgonzola e Noci—soft pillowy potato gnocchi tossed in a luscious Gorgonzola cheese sauce with caramelized walnuts. She lowered her nose to the plate, inhaling softly and savoring the feel of the aroma against her nose.

“So… what should we do?” She hummed thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “Do you know how to cook?” “No.” “Perfect!” she said, clapping her hands. “Then I’ll teach you!” Before I could protest, she grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the kitchen. “Okay, Elena.” She handed me an apron. “We’re going to make risotto.” “Risorto?” I repeated, frowning. “Risotto,” she corrected, laughing softly. “It’s an Italian dish ,creamy rice. And it happens to be Adriano’s favorite when he was little.”

"You're acting weird." Meredith gave Ellie a look of disbelief. "Weirder than normal at least," Ellie amended as Meredith laughed. "Nothing, just excited about the risotto I'm going to demolish at Fiorelli's later! Do you know they use five different kinds of cheese in their risotto? I can't even pronounce most of the cheese they use, but let me tell you, you will think you've gone to this tiny Italian heaven when you get there. My stomach is growling just thinking about it." Sam rambled as her stomach gave a very large, very prolonged growl as if it had heard her words and wanted to confirm she wasn't lying. Sam cringed and put her hand over her belly while Meredith and Ellie laughed.

The colors are vibrant, the aroma rich with citrus and herbs. Rook glances down at the plate, then back at me. “Alright, I’ll admit, this looks good.” I smirk, raising my glass. “See? Sometimes it’s worth relinquishing control.” He takes a bite, chewing slowly before pointing his fork at me. “Don’t get used to it.” The next course is Trota alla Contrabbandiera, fresh salmon trout grilled over a wood fire, deboned at the table, and dressed with lemon and olive oil. Rook watches as the waiter expertly removes the bones, his interest piqued.

"Risotto, it demands attention. It's the only thing that forces me to stop thinking about work. If you stop stirring, it ruins." I walked around the island, hopping up onto one of the barstools so I could watch him. "I didn't peg you for a domestic type." "I have layers, Sophia," he said, glancing back at me with a smirk. "Did you think I just hung upside down in a cave when I wasn't acquiring companies?" I laughed."Maybe, a very expensive cave." "Well," he said, adding a ladle of broth to the rice. "Tonight, the cave serves mushrooms and Parmesan. Are you hungry?"

I want to tell her between those kisses that every glare, every smart remark, every little act of rebellion only makes me harder for her. We move to dinner. The table is long, dressed in cream linen, and silverware polished within an inch of its life. Servants glide in and out, carrying trays heavy with food. Naomi had the menu chosen for me—porcini risotto, roasted quail, plates of cured meats and cheeses. All things I’ve had a hundred times at a hundred tables like this. Naomi tries too hard to play hostess, making sure I have what I like. Camilla stays quiet, eating like she’s in a rush to be anywhere but here. Fork, chew, sip. Not a word. I feel Carlo notice.

The large windows overlooked the canal, where Venice’s lights reflected on the water, creating a mirror of liquid stars. The scent of fresh basil and newly baked bread hung in the air, mingling with the salty aroma of the sea. The waiter brought a plate of risotto ai frutti di mare, creamy and steaming, with perfectly cooked shrimp and mussels, and a glass of white wine I pretended to sip, only wetting my lips to avoid suspicion. For Marcus, he ordered a filetto al balsamico, a grilled filet mignon drizzled with a glossy balsamic reduction, paired with golden rustic potatoes.