A Long and Messy Business. Rowley Leigh

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      RISI E LUGANEGHE

      You may substitute other kinds of Italian sausage if they

      are meaty and well spiced. Your average British sausage,

      I fear, will not serve.

      Remove any rind and chop the pancetta into very small

      cubes. Melt the butter in a heavy, flameproof casserole

      dish, add the pancetta and let it slowly render its fat. Add

      the onion and let it stew gently in the butter and fat until it

      begins to colour. Add the sausage meat to the onion and

      mash the meat with a wooden spoon to break it up and

      seal it. Continue to cook the meat until it is crisp and

      friable, then pour in the white wine. Bring to the boil and

      reduce until syrupy before adding the stock and bringing

      back to the boil. Skim the surface, then sprinkle in the rice,

      stir well and turn the heat down to a simmer and cook for

      about 15 minutes. Once the rice is cooked, check it for

      seasoning then add the parsley and grated Parmesan. Stir

      well, add a little more butter, if liked, then serve.

      Serves four for lunch,

      six as a starter.

      75g (23⁄4oz) fatty pancetta

      30g (1oz) butter

      1 onion, peeled and finely

      chopped

      300g (10½oz) luganeghe or

      similar Italian sausage, skin

      removed and coarsely

      chopped

      100ml (3½fl oz) white wine

      750ml (11⁄4 pints) chicken or

      beef stock

      250g (9oz) risotto rice

      a good handful of flat-leaf

      parsley, leaves picked and

      coarsely chopped

      50g (13⁄4oz) Parmesan cheese,

      grated

      salt and black pepper

      WINE: The Veneto is the home of Valpolicella, once the

      staple of cheap wine bars and a rather thin drop. These

      days, we can buy many great wines from that region. Here,

      a light, easy-drinking style is called for, with lots of bright

      cherry fruit.

      91

      March

      Not Just a Pretty Picture

      Sea Bass en Papillote

      A chef in France has banned his customers from taking

      photographs of his food, citing his ‘intellectual copyright’

      as having been breached by diners who might otherwise

      have breathed in a dish’s aroma, tucked in and spoken to

      their companions. I agree that it is a silly, slightly rude

      custom that completely misses the point, but I would

      never impose such a ban. It is their food and their dinner

      that is being spoilt. Nevertheless, it is a worrying trend.

      I blame the TV. Ever since food programmes stopped

      being fun and started taking food too seriously, the way a

      dish looks has become more important than the way it

      smells or tastes. I recently experienced a dish that

      illustrated this unbalanced visual emphasis. It was sculpted

      on a black rectangular plate in the shape of a tree. The

      leaves were a blossom of ice-cold creamy emulsion that

      tasted of very little. Among the leaves were little spheroid

      charms in purple, green and orange, with ever more bizarre

      flavours. At the base of the tree was a collection of small

      fruits of the forest, which included mushrooms fashioned

      out of foie gras, shards of Ibérico ham and some micro

      leaves. Not content with his work, the chef had directed the

      waiter to come over with a dredger and shower ‘snow’ of

      dehydrated essence of some worryingly unidentifiable

      substance over the ensemble. Still worried he might have

      left something out, the chef came over and shaved some

      excellent but redundant truffles over the surface. With chef

      finally satisfied, I was free to savour the dish. It was visually

      arresting and tasted quite repulsive.

      There is a deeper problem. Food becoming pretty

      pictures is just another symptom, I fear, of our alienation

      from the processes behind our food and our inability to

      deal with them. In Hong Kong it is considered poor form

      to buy dead fish – it is usually sold still flapping around in

      a tank – and chickens are often sold alive and dispatched

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