The most elemental of Tuscan cooking is also their most elementary: la bistecca alla fiorentina. So intimately associated is it with the cuisine of that food-and-wine blessed region that it is commonly called 'la tuscana.' And unlike your proposed daube, the meat is not floured, nor the sauce thickened with roux, both non-nos for the gluten-intolerant.
Of the rice varieties native to the Po Valley, Arborio is the best known and most widely available in the United States. But any short- or medium-grained rice, often labeled 'typo blue rose' in groceries catering to a Latin-American clientele, will give excellent results.
Because many of the guests at the New Years Eve party were vegetarian, I used water in place of stock, and unless you happen to have a surfeit of home-made stock on hand, I can assure you that there is no reason to do otherwise. I'm a bit pressed for time at the moment as friends just called to invite us to their home for Champagne, and I still have to make dinner for the family. But if there is interest, I will be happy to provide my recipe. My New Years risotto was made with Champagne and not red wine, probably because it was open, at hand, and unlike myself, undrunk.
As for la tuscana, you don't need a wood fire. Just ask your butcher (and it hould be your policy to find out what he likes to drink and make a friend of him) to cut you a Porterhouse 4" thick. He may give you an argument, but hold your ground. This will weigh about 4 to 4 1/2 pounds.
If you have a ridged cast iron pan, preheat it, then place the steak on it, rotating it 90-degrees after it has become nicely marked. Do the same on the second side. This operation will not cook the steak, but will merely mark the outside with the pattern the French call 'quadrillage.' If you don't have such a pan (Lodge makes the best one, it's indistructable and everlasting, and it's often on sale for $20), just brown the steak in a hot pan, then proceed to the next step.
Meanwhile, you will have preheated your oven to 250-degrees. Stand the meat up on its bone end, which will act like a rack, in the same pan. Cook the steak until almost done (I take it out when the meat thermometer registers 140-degrees), remove it to a plate, cover it with a bowl or kitchen towel, and let it rest for no less than 15 minutes, preferably half an hour. Expect the steak to take somewhere in the range of 2 1/2 to 3 hours in the oven.
Cooked in this manner, rather than by continuous high heat, the outside is a deep brown, and the interior is a perfectly even rose from edge to edge.
Present the steak before you carve it, garnishing it simply with cutup lemons (carved into a crown if you're atill sober enough, which seems doubtful). On a board with a blood groove, use a sharp knife to cut around trhe bone, removing the fillet half and the sirloin half from the 'T' shaped bone.
Carve these into roughly 1/3"-thick slices, replace on the bone, season liberally with coarse salt and cracked black pepper, and anoint generously with your very best extra-virgin. Squeeze the lemons over the whole, and serve, garnished with a mound or 2 of watercress deployed around the meat that will be eaten as your salad course dressed only with the salty, oily, lemony meat juices.
Well, I must check my pancetta for tonight's pasta, then get primed for the Champagne party with a little Delamain Pale and Dry.
As the Great One used to say, 'MMMMMMMMMMMMM-BOY! That's good!'