Khichdi for the Indians. Risotto for the Italians. Comfort food can take any name but ultimately it is all about conveying the feeling of sheer happiness. The feeling of being connected to everything dear yet the euphoria of soaring in the clouds without any strings attached. That’s the magic of comfort food. It makes you feel alive all over. Again and again.
And that’s precisely why we go seeking for our grandmother’s or mother’s recipes when we are feeling low. It triggers all those childhood memories of being held in a warm embrace, being rocked to comfort and then being pampered silly with the dish of our choice. Of the phenomenal taste of all those slow cooked recipes that only love and patience can achieve. And lots of patience is what it takes to cook up a risotto. Especially when you are making it black rice.
Unlike the traditional variety that calls for the use of wine and cheese, I made one without using either. I added a touch of vinegar to get that acidity and used some almond milk towards the end for that creamy texture. Cooked it in a open shallow pan by adding just enough liquid at regular intervals. And loved the way it turned out. Nice, rich, creamy and nutty.