Of broad beans, risotto and arancini...

Notes from the garden and the kitchen

After a shaky start, we finally have broad beans. It’s one of these crops that is best grown yourself. You occasionally find big bulging pods of them in greengrocers and in farmers’ markets but the beans themselves tend to be rather too mature. You can always tell: the side of each bean, where it attaches to the pod, has a black line.

At this stage, they will have become rather starchy and not good for eating straight. However, you can turn them into byessar, a rather delicious North African mush or, if you prefer, dip. You just slip the cooked beans out of their papery skins, pop them in a food processor with some ras el hanout , that distinctive spice blend, some finely chopped preserved lemon and garlic, and blend with good olive oil until you get the right consistency. Season with sea salt and there you have it.

To be honest, it’s a while since I’ve had preserved lemons in the larder and I’m generally out of ras el hanout so I simply use cumin, black pepper, lemon juice and zest. It may not be the real thing but it’s pretty good.

Most of our broad beans were captured before they reached the byessar stage and we have simply podded and steamed them, popped off skins – a curiously satisfying process in much the same way that popping bubble wrap is – and heated them through with either extra virgin olive oil or butter and some salt and pepper. The flavour is strong enough to take some lemon, a little garlic, maybe even some lardons of bacon.

If you want an early crop next year, grab some seeds of a Winter-hardy variety likes Aquadulce Claudia – isn’t that a name to conjure with? – and sow in early November. All going well you will be picking fresh broad beans in mid-May. Otherwise, sow in February if it’s not too cold and wet and you will lose only a fortnight or so.

We had a pescatarian to stay recently and after we had exhausted the seafood repertoire I made a risotto using dried porcini (or ceps, if you prefer) brought back from Bologna by our youngest who bought them in the Mercato de l’Herbe. Shouldn’t every city have one of those? Actually, it features a lot more than herbs and these dried mushrooms are exceptional.

I learned how to make risotto years ago in Verona at an event hosted by Sandro Boscaini of the famous Masi winery in Valpolicella and Amarone country. And I once had a great chat, over several glasses of wine, with Valentina Harris, often referred to as the Queen of Risotto.

Valentina was brought up deep in the Tuscan countryside by an Italian mother and a former RAF officer father who insisted that she listen to the BBC World service, hence her accent in English is pure RP. When her parents bought their farm after the War, it came with a former risotto chef called Bepino who taught Valentina the essentials of this Italian classic when she was no more than four years old.

I remember that she mentioned how so many of us are rather fearful of cooking risotto, it being one of those very simple dishes that are very easy to get wrong. “Risotto should have no chalky bits, nothing crunchy, but equally it is certainly not a savoury rice pudding,” she has said. And I wish more Irish chefs took that advice to heart.

We always try to have some homemade chicken stock in the freezer but, of course, that would not do on this occasion. So, I made up a vegetarian – vegan even – stock using onion, carrot, garlic, some very pungent homegrown red celery, bay leaf, parsley stalks and crushed peppercorns. Then, throwing caution to the winds, I added some Marigold vegetable bouillon powder. Marmite would have done just as well, maybe even better. Anyway, it tasted good and savoury if a little lacking in meatiness.

Anyway, my risotto turned out well and, as usual, I made far too much – for a very good reason. When a risotto is packed with flavour, as this one was, it transforms very neatly into arancini. Well, actually, maybe not neatly; I, and the kitchen, end up rather messy for reasons that will become apparent.

You will, of course, have added indecent quantities of butter and Parmesan to your risotto. We will take that as read, so your cold risotto is quite stiff and, I suppose, cohesive. You need a bowl of plain flour, a bowl of whisked egg and a bowl of breadcrumbs.

Take enough risotto to form into a ball a little smaller than one you would use for table tennis. Roll each in the flour and set aside for half an hour. Then roll them in flour again. This will ensure that your arancini have a crisp shell. I learned this from getting interrupted when making them. Pure serendipity.

Then you coat your balls, so to speak, in egg and roll them in breadcrumbs ensuring an even coating. This is a messy business. Put them in the fridge for an hour before shallow-ish frying in olive oil. We ate ours with homemade mayonnaise pimped with some lemon zest. A crisp, dry white wine is the best partner.

We are still trying to recapture the excitement of the first courgettes now that they threaten to become prize-winning marrows if neglected for a day or two. If you have any bright ideas, I’d love to hear them on Twitter, oh alright X then, @tomdoorley or Instagram tomdoorley2023.

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Even before I tasted the wine, I liked the story. A couple sell their IT business in London and buy a small estate in Elgin Valley, South Africa and grow grapes organically, incorporating some biodynamic techniques. Ploughing is by horse, pest control by a flock of ducks. Elgin Ridge 282 Chardonnay 2020 (€25.50, O’Brien’s), so called because that’s the altitude, is delightfully elegant with a citrus character and subtle oak influences, no new wood being used. Subtlety and restraint are key. At this price, it makes many a white Burgundy look unjustifiably dear. Yes, that good. I’ve since found a bit of bottle variation in this wine. Some taste older than others, with deeper colour and less fruit. Maybe best to wait for a more recent vintage.