Rice, my dears, is a pluralism. There is no one “rice”, nor is there any one way of cooking it. The only thing you need to know is that—unless you are going for a supremely classical Chinese or Japanese option—the only real sin one can commit is to boil it in salted water in a lacklustre admission of defeat.
So here are the basic "rules" to rice in ways that rock.
1. It’s always about the rice, which is nice
We haven’t even examined rice itself; from American long grain to the bounty of basmati; the nutty joys of red Camargue to the crunchy deliciousness of Italian riso venere, the rice of Venus, or the Spanish counterpart of arroz negro and the so-called “forbidden rice”, the black variety once reputedly only allowed to be eaten by the aristocracy in China.
We’ve barely got our fingers stuck into the very sticky Thai “sticky rice”, rolled our sushi mats over a mound of sumeshi or considered the different ideas of pilau on the Indian subcontinent. There are the stubby joys of arroz redonda for paella or chubby boys—Aroborio, Carnaroli, Vialone, Nano, and Baldo—who hang out for risotto. I’ll say it twice; I'll say it thrice: rice is nice.
2. The Idiot-proof rule
By all means, look and learn. There are only a few rules about rice you really need to know. So, whether you’re trying to impress your new special friend with your culinary flair or doing it entirely for yourself, here are the absolute basics:
Seal it — unless your doing a Chinese classic or Japanese sumeshi, never merely boil rice before sealing it with an oil or fat
1:1 rule — if you cook one cup of rice, always add 1 cup of liquid to your sealed rice to bring it to the boil. You can always add more, bit-by-bit, later if needed
“No rules” rule — anything you add in addition to the obvious is likely to make it better. Sure, there are some tried and tested notions (see below) but you can add practically anything to rice while it is cooking to make it better (okay, so NOT radioactive rods from decommissioned nuclear power stations, wise ass…)
3. It’s also always about water PLUS something else
Only a philistine would think that all rice requires is a little salted boiling water (save for the true exceptions). The secret behind all delicious rice is more than one method—why do you think fried rice exists?—or the addition of augmenting ingredients. Here are the "rules" in more detail.
4. Always seal before boiling
Regardless of whatever else you do with rice and, more importantly, regardless of what type of rice you’re cooking, never simply chuck rice into water. In fact, never add rice to water; always add water to rice.
Apart from Thai "sticky rice" or cooking rice in a very classic Japanese or Chinese manner, the basic rule is that all rice should be sealed before adding water. This requires oil or an oily substance. So, always:
Heat a little oil (olive, sesame, peanut, et al) or butter, ghee, goose fat, etc. in the pot in which you plan to cook the rice
Add the relevant portion of raw, washed rice to the pot and stir (it can still be wet), ensuring that it is fully coated with the desired “oily” flavour before adding any liquid
5. More is more
For many recipes (particularly Indian and Middle Eastern) you will add other ingredients at the stage after sealing (e.g. turmeric, garlic, pomegranate molasses, chopped flat leaf parsley, onions, herbs, etc.)
Only once the raw rice is fully coated should you add the relevant liquid. In most cases this involves liquid stock or some other liquid with intrinsic flavour qualities e.g. tomato purée, coconut milk or booze—I’ve yet to give you my recipe for whisky and salted caramel rice... It may also involve liquid containing other ingredients (e.g. distilled botanics or fermented ingredients, such as in Afghan dishes that use yeast or Japanese rice dishes that use miso etc.)
When boiling rice in this way, the general rule is to match like for like: i.e. if your pot contains one cup of raw rice, add one cup of hot liquid, regardless of the contents. Bring to the boil first and start to reduce. Only then add additional liquid if needed and simmer until the rice is fully cooked
6. You say pilau, I say pilaf...
Supposedly this style of cooking rice originated during the Abbasid Caliphate (c. 850) and spread over a vast geographical area; from Spain to India. No, I’m not going to get all historical on your asses, mainly because there are as many ways to make a pilau as there are to swing a cat.
Ultimately, it’s about doing everything outlined above and generally using a stock in which to cook the rice, adding desired spices and other ingredients, but also ensuring the rice remains fluffy and the grains separate, especially when finally cooked. You really don’t need to know all the variants of this style of dish. Trust me, there are a lot, they are legion and they are global.
But, perhaps we might consider the “yellow rice” cliché of pilau. Although this by no means applies to all pilau (mushroom pilau is usually brownish, for example) it has become a bit of stereotype in the UK, for example. Here, immigrant regional Indian cooking that became familiar often came from regions in which turmeric was used, resulting in this “yellow rice”. Yet, in parts of London where yellow shades of rice were the result of Turkish cuisines using saffron, it was still perceived as being the "same recipe”. Or, I could get all anecdotal about the "yellow rice" that inevitably accompanies Durban curries..
I’m not going to offer you those specific recipes here—go back and look at the individual dishes if you want to get granular. I’m merely going to reiterate the process detailed above. You decide on what you’re adding. Just apply the general principle.
7. Braised rice; just as nice
A riff on the classic pilaf or pilau, this involves sealing the raw rice in a pan, adding the proportional liquid and all relevant spices and ingredients before decanting to an oven-proof dish with with a lid (such as Creuset or classic Pyrex dish) and “baking” on a medium-to-high heat in the middle of the oven, stirring occasionally and adding small amounts of liquid as needed.
Personally, I love this method. If you’re attentive enough to “fluff” it frequently, it results in a light rice dish that, though moist with flavour, is “dry” and never soggy in the least. We often think of this style as Indian or Middle Eastern. Yet, it’s one of my favourite side dishes, made with basil, saffron, vegetable stock, chopped capers, diced artichokes and sundried tomatoes, to serve with a Piedmontese lamb dish I adore.
8. Beyond this building block
I’m not covering those rice-as-meal dishes here—the paella, risotto or arancini dishes I will detail in their own right—but here’s a little disturbing note onto which to latch: improperly cooled and reheated rice is one of the biggest causes of food poisoning in the UK. So let’s keep rice nice. Here’s the skinny to keep yourselves safe.
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