Cheese and Choux

Brrrrrr.

I've said it before.  I'll say it again: I'm not a girl who does winter well.  One of my girlfriends says that we both might have S.A.D Syndrome, whereas I think that we both just have sad syndrome (i.e. the blues).  Even watching some of my favorite movies, such as Wonder Boys and Beautiful Girls, I inwardly shudder at all of the white fluff.  Or even worse than white fluff, as far as I'm concerned, all of the brown.  The streets gleam slick and dirty with gray salt; the naked brown branches shiver; all of the mud acts as a moat would - it is nature's greatest deterrent.  Admittedly, I have a tendency to get grumpy during winter.  However, give me a winter where I'm also supposed to study for a mammoth exam?  Left to my own devices, it's a crankiness like you haven't ever seen.  Picture Jack Nicholson in The Shining.  Now picture him on acid.  That's almost me as I am now, endlessly memorizing my flashcards and talking to myself.  All work and no play makes Lizzie a dull girl...

I'm haven't exactly gone completely Kubrick, as I'm not swinging an axe.  Still, the days roll into each other here.  Every day of the week is dressed in the same drab uniform of white and brown.  Not to sound melodramatic, but - oh, what the hell - I could have frittered away my life here, as I hibernate in my own little cave.  You're doubtless beginning to understand, now, that my self-pitying could have reduced me to a whining woman.  Fortunately for this self-proclaimed pessimist (in the legal world, it's a good quality - I promise), I married a cheerful optimist.  He starts and ends most days smiling.  He can see that an exam taking place at the end of February is just and only that.  He has that big picture perspective.  This, too, will pass.  Fortunately for this pessimist, however, he's not above helping me wade through this muck of a winter.  He can lighten me, unburden me, as no one else can.  For this emergency case of the January blues, he called forth the big guns.  Chocolate.  Cheese.  Capicola. 

On Saturday morning, after a brief biscotti and coffee fix, we stole away to a local Italian market shop.  My friend Ali, knowing me better than most, gave us a gift certificate as a wedding present.  Accordingly, we didn't have to use restraint this time.  There was no holding back.  With one great flick of the wrist, we knocked the homemade pasta off shelves and into our basket.  We stood in line, taking a number that reminded us far too much of a certain pizza in Naples, to order a Swiss gruyere and a Roman provolone.  I grabbed some Nutella and fresh ciabatta bread and homemade red sauce.  We had a feast that, thanks to Alison, only cost five dollars. 

Jordan's staples.

Mine.

Soon, Jordan was hungry for Italian food.  I reminded him that we would be making that for dinner, but he was having none of it.  His stomach works on its own clock and answers to no one.  And, let me tell you, I love that stomach.  It was twenty degree weather then.  In a few hours, it would snow.  The frigid temperatures didn't stop vendors from lining the streets, however.  Even as their breath took on an ivory tinge in the cold air and they shook beneath heavy parkas, they were smiling.  And, miracle of miracles, I was too.  By the time Jordan had ordered us two chocolate-covered macaroons on the way to grab a pizza, I was beaming wide and full.  As the wind slapped up against my face, it felt like heaven to be walking in the fresh air, with a loaf of bread lodged under my arm.  Most of all, because I took the day off, I could spend a good bunch of hours wondering what on earth to do with all of that cheese . . .

Overwhelmed.

We've used the cheese, of course, for the last few days now.  I've grated it onto soups and Jordan's gnocchi.  We've had sandwiches with provolone and capicola.  I've stolen bits of hard gruyere in those stolen minutes (that my husband doesn't know about) when I dance and sing through the late afternoon.  However, it's become exceedingly apparent that the cheese is indeed winning. 

Sprinkled on gnocchi . . .

Over a glass of good red wine, I had looked through a number of cookbooks to search out ideas for my cheese.  I stumbled onto this risotto when my husband was on his way out for a basketball game.  It seemed incredibly decadent - even foolhardy - to make a risotto to be eaten alone.  It wasn't until Jordan assured me that there was no way he would eat risotto (he feels the same way about curry), that I decided to break off some cheese for myself.  Many people hate making a risotto.  They feel about stirring the risotto as I feel about peeling potatoes.  So I understand.  I get it.  If you don't want to, I won't force you.  However, there is something rich and cathartic in crafting a meal this way.  After days spent memorizing as I have been, my head throbs as traffic lights do.  I remember the feeling from law school.  I remember coming home to cooking then, too.  In the stirring and the ladling, the world somehow passes away on its own.  It's a brief moment of stillness where obligation is, mercifully, forgotten.  It's a meditation for those of us who don't have time for such stillness.  After my risotto and my red wine, savored over a long talk with a good friend, I fell into a deep sleep that evening.  I woke up the next morning to a quiet surprise outside my window.  In all of the tawny brown, lo and behold, I had found some color. 

(Swiss Gruyere and Roma Provolone) Risotto, pilfered from Nigella Express: 130 Recipes For Good Food, Fast

Ingredients

1 Tablespoon butter

1 Tablespoon olive oil

2 scallions, finely sliced

1 1/2 cups risotto rice

1/2 cup white wine

1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard

4 cups hot vegetable stock

1 cup chopped cheese

2 Tablespoons chopped chives

Instructions

Melt the butter and oil in a medium-sized pan and cook the sliced scallions until softened.  Add the risotto rice and keep stirring for a minute or so, then turn up the heat and add the wine and mustard, stirring until the wine is absorbed.  Start ladling in the hot stock, letting each ladleful become absorbed as you stir before adding the next one.  Stir and ladle until the rice is al dente, about 18 minutes, then add the cheese, stirring into the rice until it melts.  Take the pan straight off the heat, still stirring as you do, and then spoon into warmed dishes, sprinkling with some of the chopped chives.