It is an understatement to say that patience is not my strong point. But with M not home until 9pm tonight, I thought I would test my patience by attempting a borlotti bean and pancetta risotto. I've never cooked a risotto before.
At work today, in between a conference in the morning and back-to-back meetings in the afternoon, I dreamed of serenely chopping onions, celery and garlic, and sweating them on a gentle heat until they softened almost into a mush. I imagined myself flicking through the weekend papers in between stirs. I actually thought the activity of making risotto would be a calm, even meditative affair.
The reality isn't too far off. I've been reading the newspapers in between stirs. But, but, but I am anxious all the time, repeatedly returning to the stove to check nothing is browning too much or too fast. And I still haven't got round to the "slowly adding chicken stock" bit, which will, no doubt, test my patience further.
In short, I am already bored and wish I had decided on a stir fry instead.