Dinner with Pino and Lucia
There were smells that seeped out of the oven and from the pots on the stove. Anatomically speaking the heart was next to the stomach, and when we all sat down for a meal at Pino and Lucia’s house, the stomach was the heart.

The genius of Italian cooking is like a form of alchemy in its combination of simple ingredients that make up an unforgettable meal. It wasn't art on the plate with a sprig of this and a squirt of that for decoration intended to seduce the diner. The secret is its honesty, a cuisine speaking of places and origins, not only the bounty of the fertile fields and hillsides, but food enriched by the generous spirit of the Italian people. 

Whenever the opportunity arises, I try to glean new recipes from whoever is cooking or at least pick up a few tips. I stood in the narrow, utilitarian kitchen of our hostess, Lucia, and watched her as she prepared one of her specialties, “risotto di zucca,” pumpkin risotto, a deceptively simple and elegant dish, but one that requires patience and attention. As usual, I learned more by observation and osmosis, than I did by listening to her instructions, rendered in melodious, rapid Italian, most of which sailed on past me. She lowered the flame on the thick bottomed pot and stirred Arborio rice into bubbling oil, then added the vegetable stock that she had made earlier, a little at a time, until the rice was bathing in a milky bath of starch. She stirred adding more stock, repeating the procedure a half dozen times as the grains absorbed the liquid, and in between tended to the thick slices of pumpkin sprinkled with oil and a touch of garlic and rosemary that she had simmering on another burner. 

When they were soft, she mashed them with a fork and mixed them into the rice,  then added more of the vegetable stock. As the ingredients blended, the rice changed hue, from a light yellow to pale orange. She stirred for a few more minutes, scraping from the bottom up, unhurried and watchful, so that it didn’t stick. If the flame was too high and the rice swelled too quickly, it would lose its creamy consistency and become pasty and heavy. As she stirred, I remembered some useful advice “a perfect risotto should flow smoothly from the pot like lava down a mountain side."