Rice, ice, and Sinterklaas

November has passed in a blink and we fell into Sinterklaas before I knew it, with cold, sunny days, hard and full days at work, a few nights out and recipes.

Memories of my first Sinterklaas? First consideration: how good it is, when you can share these cosy little moments with your family, even when it is only a couple of people and it is not even YOUR family. But my boyfriend's one member of his family that lives here is what we have, enough to say that we have such family moments, especially during festivity times. The dinner. The presents and Secret Santa, the poems. Everything so genuinely simple and authentic. I'm aging and being surrounded by unconditional love is reassuring - knowing that it exists with no particular effort or commitments, it just existed before you were born. Second consideration: my boyfriend has good taste. And got me an amazing present. I am convinced that I will be remembered as the one that would quote this movie at every suitable occasion, even because it is one of the few I really love everything about - from the incipit at the airport, to the enigmatic conclusion on the bus. No movie could sum up so well the spirit of those years, using music so wisely, choosing actors that matched their roles so well. To the smallest detail: the poster, one picture that manages to carry the whole movie spirit, atmosphere, and intentions.
And like a real masterpiece does, it stays - in minds, memories, and now even on a decorative object in my house, at least for the time being,
The LP is history. The music by Simon & Garfunkel in this movie just fits it so well - it's pop music, light and airy but with a hint of intense melancholy that changes it dramatically. I find the LP really pretty, and not only because, now you know, this movie is in my personal top 3 of all times, but because it is vintage, it carries a tiny bit of the rebellious spirit of the movie, and the construction of the picture itself is innovative - geometrical, feminine-centred, sexy, contemplative. I love to be the proud owner of it and I will treasure it as an exciting memory of celebrating my first Sinterklaas in the first year I moved to the Netherlands.

Meanwhile, the days we were experiencing cold - EXTREMELY cold - days in Amsterdam, I regressed to a childhood status in which I felt I needed a more energetic breakfast than plain oatflakes and milk (healthy is not always the answer, people. Right? Right.)
So I went for a super comforting breakfast that tastes homey, sweet and old fashioned: in Italian we call it risolatte, which means "ricemilk". And it's nothing more than rice (risotto rice, to be precise), boiled in milk and sugar, often with a piece of lemon zest or sprinkled with cinnamon powder at the end. A version of these dessert is actually quite common in Greece and in many other countries, including Spain.

To be completely honest, I hardly had risolatte for breakfast when I was a child. My Mum was sometimes making very simple cakes or puddings, but risolatte has never been part of the most-prepared recipes at home. However, in my mind rice is an old fashioned ingredient that turns a simple custard in something a little bit more complex: starch makes everything thicker of course, but at the same time rice grains add a "sandy" texture to the cream, a more rustic appearance and taste.
I find it quite interesting as an ingredient, and that's why I feel attracted by traditional recipes such as the rice cake typical of Emilia Romagna (in Italy) or the tarte au riz, which I sooner or later would like to taste (and make).
Going back to risolatte, a rice pudding is what a granny would prepare with just a couple of ingredients that everyone keeps in the pantry: it's comfort food, it's easy to make, it's full of taste. And I just happened to have a couple of spoonfuls of risotto rice (Arborio) that I could use. I boiled it in semi-skimmed milk and a bit of sugar. I added cinnamon. And, because I wanted it dark, creamy, dessert-like, I added cocoa powder, enough to make it look like a chocolate custard. Ready: chocolate cinnamon risolatte. Next time I would bring milk to the boil with an orange zest for a fresh citrusy touch, and possibly would top the rice pudding with toasted almonds.
Result? Three days' breakfast sorted, and a happy girl (me).