Growing up in the suburbs, my family and I would go to steakhouses often, our Friday night ritual at the end of the workweek. Think: ABC's Fresh Off the Boat, Louis Huang's Cattleman's Ranch Steakhouse. As soon as we'd come home from dinner, even after that huge meal, my dad would head straight to the kitchen and eat a spoonful or two of cold leftover white rice (the gonggi bap) straight out of the rice cooker. Maybe with some ice-cold kimchi from the fridge, a sheet or two of gim (roasted seaweed snack). Dinner was never dinner unless there was white rice to round everything out. It was as if he couldn't feel fully satiated without it.
I wonder if other Koreans can identify with this longing for rice to complete a meal. It signifies for me a long-lasting lore I've always felt that white rice is food, and food is white rice.
It is significant, isn't it, how the word for "rice" in so many cultures is synonymous with the one for "food"? In Korean, bap means both "rice" and "food," or "meal." In Mandarin, it's fàn. In Japanese, gohan. I'm no linguist or historian, but it makes sense to me that this would be the case for cuisines where white rice is at the center, always the starch on the table, the prized crop in the agricultural makeup of all these cultures' food economies.
I think there's also a lot of mystification out there about how to cook white rice. Maybe because everyone does it differently: It's likely that your way of making it is different from your friend's or from Tejal Rao's, from mine. Indeed, how we cook food differently will always be an indication of the variability of culture, and the notion that there is no one right way.
That said, there is a right way in my life, and in my brother's, and in my dad's. I thought it was high time that I share some wisdom from my own mother Jean, whose rice is quite famous for being perfectly fluffy, never mushy, and exactly right. She's been making it for 50 years and, as far as I know, hasn't changed her method since. It comes out immaculate every time, so there's got to be something to it right?
I have to say here: This method uses an electric rice cooker, which is prevalent in every Korean household, like an electric kettle might be in every British household. If you're looking for the stovetop method, proceed here.
Otherwise, here's my mother's method, which, I've learned in recent years, is a little different.
- First, Jean rinses short-grain white rice (the sticky kind you get at Korean and Japanese restaurants, not jasmine nor basmati, not Uncle Ben's, but this one) straight in the rice cooker. That is, she fills the removable inner pot with rice (never measures), takes it over to the sink, fills it with water, stirs with her hands, and pours the cloudy water out—and repeats this process, say, three or four times until the water runs clearer. She used to make me do this when I was little while she prepped dinner, and I'd get rice all over the sink (which is why now I always rinse my rice in a sieve).
- Next, she fills the inner pot (a little water in there is fine, good actually) with enough water so that when she places her palm flat into the rice, the water level rises to the crease in her wrist where it meets the hand. I always thought this was black magic. "My hand is way bigger than yours!" I'd say. And she'd go: ¯_(ツ)_/¯. But I'd end up making rice like this for decades, sticking my palm into the rice and feeling anxious about the lack of science of it all. How accurate could this be, really? Eventually, when I started developing recipes that required exact measurements, I was able to figure out the actual rice-to-wrist-level-water proportions. Which came out to be about 1 cup water for every 1 cup rinsed, drained short-grain white rice. Remember: This is for the rice cooker, not for the stove, so if it doesn't sounds like enough water, just trust me (or rather, trust my mother).
- This next step is subtle but, in my experience, essential (especially if you're using the 1:1 water to rice ratio above): My mother lets her rinsed, drained rice sit in its water for a bit before cooking. Sometimes she'd forget about it completely and it'd sit there, and sit there, and sit there. But the idea is that the rice should soak. The resultant texture is, for me, so much fluffier, rounder, better. Even when you think you don't have the time, just soak it a little. Five minutes is better than zero. These days I set a timer for exactly 10 minutes, which I've learned over the years is totally sufficient. Longer is fine, if you forget like her (and me sometimes), but any longer than an hour or so and you run the risk of entering mushy rice territory.
- Finally, press the button and wait. But don't watch it. A watched rice cooker never steams.
Skillet Bibimbap
A cast-iron skillet makes a great stand-in for the sizzling-hot stone bowl bibimbap is traditionally served in. This way, you still get the crispy, caramelized edges of the rice, which tastes fantastic with the marinated kalbi, tangy radishes, and creamy egg yolk.
Jean's Kimchi Fried Rice With Nori
Use up that leftover white rice to make this supremely comforting kimchi fried rice, which calls on pantry staples—spam, sesame oil, and roasted seaweed snack—plus a few fried eggs to tie the whole dish together.
Paper-Thin Asparagus With Butter & Soy Sauce
Inspired by a recipe from James Beard’s memoir, this exceedingly simple method works wonders with asparagus, but you can use pretty much any raw vegetable you have lying around—like asparagus, broccoli, or sugar snap peas.
Instant Pot Short Ribs With Roasted Seaweed Gremolata
Most short rib recipes take at least a few hours to develop their flavor and get super tender—but not this Instant Pot version, which packs in tons of flavor (courtesy of red wine, jalapeño, garlic, and a crunchy roasted seaweed gremolata that goes on top) and is ready to serve in just under an hour. It goes great with grits or creamy mashed potatoes, but white rice is the go-to.
Spicy Korean Chicken & Potato Stew (Dakdoritang)
This hot and spicy Korean stew, called dakdoritang, is also just a little bit sweet, thanks to the gochujang and carrots. Ready in just 40 minutes, this soul-warming chicken and potato dish is ready to be served over scoops of fluffy, fresh white rice.
This article was updated by the Food52 editors in April 2020 to include more tasty ideas for what to cook with your perfect white rice.
Written by: Eric Kim
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Boil a large pot of slightly salted water. At least 8 cups worth or more. Dump your rice in....amount doesn’t matter...can do a cup or two (or 3) of dry rice. Stir once, then let simmer/boil with lid off for 20 minutes. Strain rice in colander, then dump back into the pot, stir with a fork, pop on the lid, then let rest off heat for TEN minutes. Voila! Perfectly cooked, fluff yet yummingly chewy brown rice that will keep nicely in frig for several days.
We depart from Jean's process with the measurement of the cooking water. My mother used her index finger to mark the top of the drained rice. Then she added an equal height of water. Years later, I figured out that it was really a 1:1 volume ratio (eg. 1 scoop of rice, 1 scoop of water). This ratio works best for jasmine rice, but I use the 'rule' for most white rice, except basmati which seems able to absorb an enormous amount of water.
Mom even taught me how to cook rice on the stovetop. The rinse/measurement was the same, but stovetop rice required a bit more vigilance: 1.bring the rice and water to a boil, over medium heat 2. simmer until the bubbling water is almost level with the top of the rice 3. then lower the heat to low or the lowest setting and put a lid on the pot 3. rotate the pot around the heat to insure even cooking without burning the rice 4. check for doneness after you've rotated the pot a full turn. The rice should look sort of dry, but is tender and cooked through; ie. there should not be any water left. Fluff with a pair of chopsticks.
If anyone loves Persian rice with it's yellow elongated grains here's the recipe for 5 servings:
2 1/2 cups (about 450 g) uncooked basmati rice (I used this brand: Saleem Caravan, Super Golden Basmati Rice)
vegetable oil
1/3 cup butter (more or less depends on your taste)
1/4 teaspoon ground saffron
1 small raw tortilla
salt
Dissolve the saffron in in two tbs boiling water.
Rinse the rice at least 5 times.
Fill a bowl 2/3rds full of lukewarm water with 2 tbs salt and add rice.
Let set 1 hour.
Drain.
Fill a pot 3/4 full of water + 1tbs salt and boil.
Add 6 tbs oil and then the tortilla.
Pour the rice over the tortilla in a mound.
Poke holes in the rice with wooden spoon handle.
Drizzle the rest of the oil (7tbs) into those holes.
Cover and heat on medium until it steams.
Then turn it down to low and let it cook another 45 minutes.
Remove about 5 tbs rice to a small bowl.
Combine it with the saffron tea you brewed.
Serve with the saffrom rice garnishing the white rice.
There's nothing like this rice!
Just at the end of cooking before you divide off the small amount for the saffron blend in the butter.
Sounds like it might be greasy but it isn't.
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