BP and the Mad Housewife—Risotto with Shrimp and Carrots

I know the woman who gazes out at me from the Mad Housewife label is an actress, hired to wear an apron and dark-rimmed glasses, but I can’t help adding her to the pantheon of domestic goddesses in my imagination (make room, Julia).  Her image comes from the 50s or early 60s, but she is the zeitgeist for women and housewives everywhere, capturing the essence of what it is to be a housewife. 

As I sip my wine, I try to understand her quizzical expression.  Is she filled with longing? Is she listening (to my meandering thoughts perhaps)?  Is her expression one of forbearance?  Wistfulness?  Does she wonder how in the world she ended up in a kitchen with a pile of laundry at her feet?  If the label came alive, as in a Harry Potter movie, what would she be saying?  Complaining about her mother-in-law?  Revealing youthful ambitions?  In any case, whenever I look at her Mona Lisa smile, I am reminded to take a moment to enjoy a glass of wine, to relax and reflect.  In an odd way she feels like a friend.

I’ve needed a friend this week—and a glass of wine.

We who live on the coast of Florida have a certain tolerance for calamity.  Something in us enjoys the challenge of surviving Mother Nature’s rages.  When we learn a hurricane is coming, there is immediate camaraderie as we prepare for the storm—helping neighbors pack up, looking after the elderly, assisting each other in pulling boats out of the water.  There is a certain amount of exuberance about our predicament, accompanied by much humor.

But there is little humor or exuberance among the locals about our latest crisis.

This week I went for a training course sponsored by British Petroleum on how to clean up oil on our beaches.  The mood in the classroom was grim.  The oil is 60 miles away, and the latest forecasts are that the currents will push it away from the Panhandle where we live down to the tip of Florida.  But we know it is coming.  It is only a matter of time. 

We live close to nature in the Panhandle.  Our shores are undeveloped, the wetlands protected, about a 100 square miles are state and national parklands.  Our waters are estuaries for dozens of species fish, and it is a migration point for hundreds of kinds of birds.  We wake to the calls of herons and owls, and go to sleep to the splashes of jumping mullet.  There is an overwhelming feeling here of sharing the water and land with animals.  They are part of our lives.

As I biked past a marsh this morning, two dozen white egrets took off over the shallow water.  I watched a Ruddy Turnstone skitter over the sand, flopping over shells, looking for hermit crabs to eat.  Soon tar balls will wash up in these wetlands.  Oil will mat the grasses.  The shrimp and oysters will be inedible.  The birds will be covered in oil.  Dead trout, redfish, and dolphin will wash up on shore.  The air will smell toxic.  The Ruddy Turnstone will be wading through black goop.

There is no cycle of life and death here—only extermination.  Our wetlands may never come back completely.  Many species in Prince William Sound haven’t recovered, and the Exxon Valdez spill was in 1989. 

The BP specialist who was training us to clean the beaches spent most of the course talking about what not to do—do not help the oil-covered wild life, call for help; do not touch anything without gloves; do not take off your helmet or goggles; and, above all, do not get heatstroke.  It was clear his main objective was to limit BP liability, not to help us save our beaches.  That made me cynical and very sad.

I went home.  I needed a glass of Mad Housewife.

And there she was, looking as tranquil as ever, promising me that despite looming disaster, a glass of wine, a calm moment, a meal of food lovingly prepared and shared with family and friends, will give us courage and hope. 

 

Risotto with Shrimp and Carrots

 

Risotto is one of the great comfort foods of the world—creamy, rich, and subtle.  In this recipe, carrots bring out the color and sweetness of the shrimp.  It makes a fabulous first course before fish or chicken, or as a main course.  Serve with Mad Housewife Chardonnay.

 

Serves four:

 

1 pound shrimp, peeled, deveined, and chopped (reserve 3 shrimp whole per person)

2-1/2 cups chicken broth

1 cup Arborio rice (other white rices will work, but will not be as creamy)

1 cup Mad Housewife Chardonnay

2 tablespoons butter

1 tablespoon olive oil

4 scallions, chopped

4 cloves garlic, chopped fine

1 cup carrots, chopped fine

¼ cup fresh thyme

2 tablespoons fresh chives (or greens from scallions)

¼ teaspoon Jamaican jerk spice or cayenne-based seasoning

1 lime, juiced

black pepper

½ cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese

 

1.     Prepare your salad and whatever else you are making for dinner first.  Once you start the risotto, you’ll be stirring for the next twenty-five minutes or so.

2.     In small bowl, sprinkle reserved shrimp with hot spice and lime juice.  Let sit.

3.     In a deep, non-stick sauce pan, sauté scallions and garlic in 1 tablespoon butter and olive oil until transparent.  Use a flat wooden spatula.  Add carrots and rice.  Stir and cook 1 minute until all the juices are absorbed.

4.     Add wine and stir until absorbed. 

5.     Heat chicken broth in microwave until hot.  Pour ½ cup at a time into the rice, adding more when liquid is absorbed.  Stir gently and constantly on medium heat.  This should take about 15 minutes.

6.     Add shrimp, thyme, chives, and black pepper.  Do not add salt (the cheese has enough).  Continue stirring for 5 to 10 minutes until rice is tender.  If it gets dry, add a little hot water or wine.  Maintain a creamy texture.

7.     When done, take off the stove and add cheese and remaining butter.  It should be creamy enough to need a bowl, but not soupy.  Stir and let stand for one minute before serving. 

8.     Microwave reserved shrimp for one minute.

9.     Dish up risotto in individual pasta bowls and decorate with whole shrimp.  Grind more black pepper over top.