I dream of the day when I can make a
perfect pot of rice.
For the last three years, I have lived
in a beautiful apartment. Dark wood floors, a working fireplace,
12-foot ceilings decorated with massive white orb lights, a washer
and dryer built right in... and an electric stove. A thorn in my
side, a pebble in my shoe, an ELECTRIC stove. For a cook, it's like
inviting an amputee to do the Hokey Pokey. They might be able to
shimmy around a bit, but... really?
The instructions “bring to boil,
reduce to simmer,” commonly shorthanded to BTB, RTS, have become
the bane of my existence. As I am constructing a fantastic curry or
stew, I can feel it coming, and I prepare accordingly, as to avoid an
“Oh Crap” moment. On my active burner, where I am sauteing
my mirepoix, aromatics, and spices, I plan to enact the BTB part of
the plan. That bad boy is already hot, so bringing it up to “red,”
or a 10 on the dial, won't be too hard. But if you have ever tried to
RTS on an electric coil, you know you've got another thing coming.
The heat really sticks in those curly metal buggers, so you might
meander your way down to a nice steady simmer in say, 15 minutes.
What you need to do is prepare your passive burner, either
right behind or next to your active one, which is sitting at simmer
level – for me, a 3 on the ol' dial. Then, when you're ready drop
your dish and go catch half an episode of “Friends,” just whip
the pot from one coil to the next – and turn off the red one for
god's sake, I learned that the hard way.
You don't need to tell me this is not
an ideal situation. How many nights have I lifted the lid on my pot,
expecting delicious fluffy rice, only to find a congealed mass of
little white nubbies? How many noodles swimming in a pot of soup
have reached my lips either woefully undercooked, or annihilated back
into a gooey mouthful of flour and egg? Consistency, I once argued
drunkenly in a bar, is a cornerstone of successful cooking. My
dinky, squeaky, sad little electric stove offers only a recipe for
hope, followed by an inevitable plateful of unevenly cooked
disappointment. Blarf.
But my day is coming soon! My time in
this beautifully appointed apartment with the goiter on its neck is
nearing a close. I anticipate writing to you in a month, high as a
16-year old raver sucking a candy pacifier, after successfully
BTB-RTS-ing for the first time on the same burner! I only hope I am
able to type in between forkfuls of perfectly cooked, toothsome rice.
Until then...
Francis Lam's Perfect Rice – From
GiltTaste.com
1 tablespoon oil
2 cups jasmine or other long-grain white rice
3 cups water
1. Preheat oven to 350⁰F. Heat the oil over medium-high heat in a heavy saucepan with a tight-fitting lid. When it starts to shimmer, add the rice and stir. Cook it, stirring, for a few minutes. Notice when it starts to feel kind of “sandy” in the pot, resisting your spoon a little bit, and hear it squeak. That’s the starch changing in the heat.
2. Keep toasting, stirring, past the point when all the grains have turned translucent. The rice should smell wonderfully like popcorn (especially with jasmine rice). A minute or two later, and some grains should have turned back opaque. When it looks like about ¼ of the grains have turned back to white, carefully add the water. It will probably boil immediately; if not, stir the rice once and let it come to a boil. Shut off the heat, put the lid on, and drop it in the oven. Take it out 13 minutes later.
3. Right away, uncover the pot – be careful, the handle is hot! – and gently dig into it to see all the way to the bottom. On the off chance there’s still sitting water there, cover the rice back up and put it back in the oven for a couple minutes. (This NEVER HAPPENS. But don’t freak if it does.) If it looks good, gently fluff the rice with a fork or serving spoon. Start with the top layers first, and then dig a little deeper until you’re flipping all the rice; the point is to expose the rice so the moisture can steam off. Once all the grains look dry, serve, with great pride.
