Venetians aren't very excitable people. You rarely see anything here approaching Neapolitan levels of cussing, arm-waving or knife-brandishing. But one thing they are passionate about is the right way to cook Risi e Bisi. Every Venetian woman is convinced she is the sole repository of the authentic recipe.

Risi e Bisi, a soothingly sloppy pea risotto, is a spring dish. It used to be what the Doge had for dinner on St Mark's Day. Frankly you can make it at any time of the year using those tiny, sweet, flash-frozen peas and indeed I've made it that way in New York in November with no complaints, but the tradition is to use fresh spring peas from the lagoon island of Sant'Erasmo and as the vegetable boats are now bringing crates of them in every morning I decided today was our day for the real thing.

Signora Puziol, from whom I bought my peas at 7.30 this morning, uses onion but no bacon. Signora Toso, who wrote one of my Venetian cookbooks, insists on bacon but never mentions onion. And one rogue recipe I was given included fennel seeds. Fennel seeds? Surely the point is to taste the peas?

Peas are one of those Proustian madeleines for me. My grandad used to grow them and on Sunday mornings I'd sit with him in his garden and shell them, no more than an hour between harvesting and cooking. Sometimes there were tiny potatoes too, with skins so tender you could rub them off. My grandmother was never party to any of this vegetable preparation. She was usually indoors, either trying to rectify her latest slip-up with a home permanent kit or planning the next assault on her hair. Anyway, those peas were so delicious an awful lot of them didn't make it to the kitchen. I can almost taste them now. Almost.

So you shell the peas and simmer the pods for an hour with water, garlic and parsley to create a broth. Then you soften a chopped onion in melted butter, add the peas and a little hot broth, and after about five minutes you add the rice and proceed as for any other risotto. Which brings me to today's big question. Arborio rice or Vialone Nano? Arborio is very fashionable, I know, but it's an unforgiving rice. Leave it for two minutes while you answer the phone and it turns to sulking glop. Personally I'm a Vialone Nano woman but Doge Fitzpatrick loves Arborio and as this is his first day off work in aeons and his poor old ankles are crying for mercy, Arborio he shall have.

And when the risotto is cooked it shall be anointed with more butter, and rested for as long as it takes to dust it with freshly grated Parmesan and open a bottle of Pinot Grigio, and peas shall reign. Verily.