Life lessons in rice

No Saturday Supper tonight, I'm afraid, as I have been forbidding myself from getting ingredients in preparation for the move, which means that lately all I've been doing is getting rid of my old ingredients, which make for rather peculiar (though interesting) rehashes of "fry everything in oil and cover in cumin."

I would like, instead, to share some pearls of wisdom regarding the preparation of rice. Rice, in many ways, mirrors life. You can go about it haphazardly, and perhaps achieve satisfying results sporadically. Or you can go about it with a disciplined manner coupled with a passion sparked by creative drive, and you'll find satisfying results with consistency, and invigorating results sporadically. Here are some basic principles by which rice should be prepared.

1) If you haven't tried it before, measure first. You can cook rice fine by guesstimation once your eye's been trained, but until then your rice will most likely turn out just a little different each time. This, of course, is by no means a bad thing, but it's always good to have a reliable fallback point just in case your changes don't go right. Give yourself something to rely on when you start out; otherwise you'll keep finding yourself circling back to the beginning without the faintest idea of what you're doing.

2) Know your limiting factors. If you're planning on cooking lots of rice, be sure your pot can hold all the water you'll need, especially if you plan on preparing congee (which I happened to be cooking this morning). Know how much rice you have, how much you'll need, how long it'll last you. If you're planning on using the rice in another dish, know the amount of preparation time it'll take for the rice to be done. Formulate plans in your head with a focus on these limiting factors, and things will go more smoothly.

3) Constantly reevaluate. If you're using a rice cooker, then you don't have to worry about it. A lot of people don't worry about the rice even when they're using a stovetop pot, which I find leads to rice sticking onto the bottom of the pot. Stir the pot occasionally and check frequently. If something seems wrong, lift the lid and check. If everything seems fine, lift the lid and check anyways. You may find out things about your rice that you never would have noticed otherwise. Don't overdo it to the point of anxiety, but keep alert. It'll save you a sticky situation later on.

4) Experiment! And don't just experiment with the amount of rice or water you add. Experiment with how you stir, with the heat you apply, with washing beforehand, with the degree to which the lid covers the pot, etc. When you have yourself a solid foundation to fall back on, it's time to try exploring some uncharted regions. You might be setting yourself up for failure, but that's just cause to try again some other day, with a new piece of information nested solidly in your head.

5) Enjoy your rice. Some days, it's all you have.

And for those of you who only use rice cookers and never cook in pots, it's worthwhile to try your hand at it, if not as an culinary improvement, then perhaps as a form of meditation and self-reflection. Look into it sometime.

"Food"

I need to start getting rid of my ingredients now as I move out of here, which means that a lot of the things I eat are going to be strange hodgepodges of things I have too much of. Like today's dish, except today's is arguably only exacerbating the problem...

Welcome to Saturday Supper, where your host, I, Yifan, am continually haunted by the spirits of those animals who have sacrificed their lives so that they could be reintroduced into the circle of life, only to wind up in my dishes of death instead. Today's dish is a high-density, high-calorie, efficient nutrient-giving foodstuff.

I'll let your reaction fill in the caption.

Some of you in the audience might be thinking that I've finally just given up on even trying to follow recipes. That's...that's chillingly accurate. I can't even claim that any thought of a recipe went into the making of this - I just had ingredients and threw them together into a pan using techniques that I've learned over the course of the summer.

If you can't tell what's in this dish (and honestly, there's no reason why anyone should expect you to), it's ground pork, beans in tomato paste, breading, spinach, and cheese. This covers a lot of ground, nutrient-wise, and can be condensed into a very very dense form. What is this good for? Honestly, I'm not too sure.

It actually looks much more appetizing when condensed. Rather like Romantic literature.

Do I have anything interesting to say about this...thing? Not really. Heck, I didn't even bother with a proper title for this entry. It is notable that this one round of cooking will be enough to last me for at least four meals, which is quite substantial considering how little it looks like there is. Funnily enough, I had a similar thought earlier today with my bacterial media, how making one stock is enough to last for several experiments, considering how little it looks like there is. I worry ever so slightly for my future as a living being.

All in all, this post, I'm sure you've realized, much resembles the dish for which it's dedicated. Hastily put together, very confused, and hardly satisfying from an aesthetic standpoint to any partaking in its essence. But in any case it fills up space and gets you through another week.