We’re at the point in winter when I shift from attempting to enjoy the season to attempting to survive it. And how do I survive my most hated of seasons you ask? I let my cravings rule the day and eat my weight in comfort food. Is it healthy? No. Does it feel good? Yes. Will I keep doing it? I think today’s Carbonara Risotto answers that question. But in all seriousness, this is the time to be gentle with yourself. Regardless of what the groundhog had to say, if you live somewhere that has winter there is likely a lot more winter to be had. So I say, find joy where you can during these dark cold months and I found joy in this risotto. So let’s talk about it. It’s a much better topic than Seasonal Affective Disorder anyway.
Summer may be officially over but there’s still plenty of its produce kicking around. My grocery store is still bursting with stone fruit, summer squash, and tomatoes of every variety. So while I can feel my focus shifting towards the pumpkin spice of it all, I’m still keen to cook with the produce available. The simple solution to this is to take the summer’s best and wrap it up in a nice, cozy package. And that’s exactly what today’s Creamy Tomato Risotto is.
We’re in the dregs of February now and slowly but surely the light is returning. But I have to say, spring still feels pretty far away. It certainly felt far away at 6:30 this morning as Sunny and I were shoveling our way out of our home. So yeah, you could say February still has its bleak hold on me and that means comfort food, the more carb-heavy, the better. And if I can eat two comfort foods simultaneously, so much the better, or at least that’s what I thought when I dreamed up this Hainanese Chicken Risotto.
Sometimes food is just about comfort. It’s not about fuel, nourishment, or appearance. It’s not about being clever or making a statement. Sometimes food is just for you and your feelings whatever they may be. And today’s Risotto Stuffed Squash with Fried Sage is a prime example of this comfort-forward, hide-from-the-world food. And how do I know this? Well, I’m currently eating the leftovers, hood up, hiding from the world. And it’s every bit as wonderfully pathetic as you’re imagining it to be.
