Sex, drugs and deep fried risotto

You know how last week I wrote about the risotto I cooked for me and Rachel when she visited? Well, the story doesn’t quite end there. I usually cook too much food, but it doesn’t happen often that I have food left: we’ll just eat more than we should, or I offer my flatmate some. Not this time, I had risotto left and there was no one there to help us get rid of it. Reheating risotto doesn’t work, it’ll just get really sticky and gadzy. So when we got back from a good night out, we decided to make deep fried risotto balls! I don’t actually have a deep fryer, so I took a tiny wee saucepan that we have, filled it with sunflower oil and put it on the fire. We then rolled balls out of the rice, put the first two in and realised I had put too much oil in the pan: it started overflowing, and the by now scorching hot oil started burning as it dripped down on the cooker. We briefly panicked, but eventually we got stuff under control and decided it was still a great idea to make some more. I realise all of this was quite irresponsible and probably dangerous, but the result was totally worth the risk of third degree burns. Super, super tasty risotto balls, perfect snack after drinking, but probably even better with drinking.

Irresponsible deep frying

– flour

– egg
– breadcrumbs

– a deep fryer, preferably, or otherwise a pan full of oil.

Stick the risotto in the fridge, don’t use it until it’s completely cooled down. Once it is, squeeze and knead it with your hands so it becomes a mouldable substance. If there’s still chunks of vegetables in there, squeeze them into smaller bits. Roll wee balls out of the rice, a little smaller than ping pong balls. Fill deep plate or shallow bowl with flour. Whisk the egg in another deep plate and fill a third one with breadcrumbs. Roll each of the balls through the flour, then through the egg and finally through the breadcrumbs. Deep fry them at 180 degrees, or whatever you think works. Not too hot, or they’ll come out black but still cold on the inside, which is what happened to our first few ones.

They're a bit black, but they were still good.


About La dittatrice

After years of being based in Glasgow, I've recently made a home for myself in Turin, Italy, for the time being, at least. This blog is my captain's log. Here I note down what I did, and what I ate. A story, then a recipe. That's how this here works. Updates on Wednesdays.
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