1. In a medium saucepan, gently warm the milk over low heat. You want it warm but not boiling—think of how Mama Lu would keep the fire low so nothing scorched.
2. In a separate heavy-bottomed pot, melt 1 tablespoon of butter over medium heat.
3. Add the Arborio rice to the butter and stir constantly for about 2-3 minutes until the rice is glossy and just beginning to toast. This step releases the starch, the magic that makes risotto creamy.
4. Slowly start adding the warm milk, about 1/2 cup at a time. Stir gently and continuously, letting the rice absorb the liquid before adding more. This is where patience plays its part—just like kneading biscuit dough on a lazy morning porch.
5. After about 15 minutes, when the rice is tender but still has a slight bite, stir in the granulated sugar, rose water, vanilla extract, and a pinch of salt. Taste as you go—remember, recipes were always remembered in our family, not rigidly followed.
6. Gently fold in the fresh raspberries, letting them warm through and begin to release their juices, turning the risotto a soft rosy hue. If you want it sweeter, add the honey or maple syrup now.
7. Remove from heat and stir in the remaining tablespoon of butter along with the lemon zest. This adds a lovely brightness, a little twist Mama Lu would have called a “happy surprise.”
8. Let the risotto sit covered for a few minutes before serving. It will thicken slightly and develop that irresistible creamy texture.

From my time spent in that blue-ridge kitchen to my experiments in Portland, I’ve learned that risotto is about love and attention. Stirring is a rhythm, a kind of meditation that brings out the soul in simple grains and fruit.