BRATTLEBORO — On the day the time changed last month, I drove home from work giddily feeling like I was playing hooky.
I examined my thawing garden on my way from the car to the porch. Everywhere there were bulbs popping little green shoots out of the brown, cold ground. The day stayed warm and light almost through dinner. We did not need a fire.
But the shiny red ornaments I hung in November from the tree outside the front door remain, and I feel as confused as ever in this strange spring.
Will winter return? And most importantly, what do I cook?
Part of me wants the comfort of beef stew, and part of me wants the liberation of asparagus. But local asparagus is still a long way coming, and stew just seems too dowdy for this time of year.
Foraging in my cupboards produced many bags of lentils, beans, pasta, cans of tomatoes and coconut milk, and six or seven varieties of rice. Most of it is winter food; but, I thought, perhaps the rice could be used to warm my imagination and my gullet and also make me believe it's spring.
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Rice is a staple food for over half of the world's population, and it has fed more people over a longer period of time than any other food.
Asia, China, and India are the clear leaders in rice production, but did you know that rice is grown in Vermont? In 2006, Takeshi and Linda Akaogi began experimenting with growing rice on their Westminster farm. Their willingness for innovation and their subsequent success has resulted in all sorts of rice farming in Vermont.
Linda sells their rice at the Brattleboro Farmers' Market, and at least one local chef, Michael Fuller, seasonally incorporates it in his menu at T.J. Buckley's. The rest of us will have to rely on the more than 40,000 varieties grown worldwide.
My cupboards revealed brown, jasmine, basmati, sticky, Arborio, French red, and Chinese forbidden black. How are they different, you might ask?
Rice is identified in two basic ways. First, there are four broad groups:
• Indica (grown primarily in southeast Asia) accounts for over 75 percent of commercially grown rice and thrives in hot, tropical climates.
• Japonica (grown primarily in Japan) grows in cooler climates and is known for its stickiness.
• Aromatic rice is medium to long grain and includes both basmati and jasmine varieties, among others.
• Glutinous rice is an Asian variety that actually has no gluten but is gluey: because of its high starch content, it is very sticky when cooked.
Actually, all rice is gluten-free. Rice is a cereal grain, a term that comes from the name of the Roman goddess of agriculture, Ceres. A cereal grain is an edible seed that comes from a plant of the grass family, like wheat, barley, oats, or millet.
And to make matters more complicated, rice is also identified by the size of its grain: long, short and medium.
So, there you are at the Co-op, gazing intently at the bulk bins, and you see rice, lots of different kinds of rice, and you just want to cook dinner. How are you to know the significance of the length of the grain or how the rice will cook up?
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Here is the quick-and-dirty answer.
First, these long/medium/short terms can refer to any of those broad groups of rice mentioned above.
A grain of long-grain rice is slender and four to five times longer than it is wide. When cooked, the grains are light and fluffy, and they don't stick together. Classic long-grain rice includes basmati, jasmine, and red.
A grain of medium-grain rice is two to three times longer than it is wide, it cooks up moist, and its grains tend to cling together but are not really sticky. Risotto rice is usually medium grain.
Short-grain rice is plump, almost round; a grain is as short as it is long, and it definitely sticks together more than medium- or long-grain varieties. Sweet, sticky, and sushi rice are short grain.
Rice has two protein molecules that determine its stickiness when cooked: amylose and amylopectin.
An amylose protein is long and straight, and when cooked, it isn't sticky. Amylopectin is a branchy protein that does make rice sticky when it is released during cooking. The longer the grain of rice, the more amylose; the shorter the grain, the more amylopectin.
The basic rules of rice:
• If you want to make a rice pilaf, where the grains don't clump together at all, use long-grain rice.
• If you want to make a rice dish like risotto, where the grains need to be slightly plump and not completely separate, use medium grain.
• If you want a classic rice pudding or you want rice that's easy to pick up with chopsticks, use short grain!
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Over the years, I've discovered that if you sauté the dry long- or medium-grain white or brown rice over medium heat with 1 tablespoon of olive oil before adding cold water, you get almost perfect results. The sauté helps to seal the rice kernel, allowing less amylopectin into the water and making for separate but fluffy grains.
After this initial sauté, I use a ratio of one measure of rice to almost (but not quite) two of cold liquid.
Very low heat is another key to great rice. Put that burner down to super low, cover the pan, and wait until you see no liquid when you take the cover off and tilt the pan. Then, turn the heat off and leave the rice for a few minutes. Then uncover it and separate the grains with a fork. (Note: 1 cup of dry rice makes approximately 3 cups of cooked rice.)
Jasmine and basmati rice, good examples of aromatic long-grain rice, are great just cooked as is, but can be further enhanced by cooking in coconut milk with a little added fresh ginger. Just peel a 1-inch chunk and pound it with the flat side of a knife blade until it is well bruised, and add it to the rice in the proportion above but use half coconut milk and half water. The result is aromatic, exotic, and sweet.
To notch this up a few pegs, sauté 1 small onion and 2 cloves of garlic with 1 tablespoon of olive oil until tender. Add 8 cardamom pods, crushed, 1 teaspoon of crushed coriander, 1 cinnamon stick, and 1 knob of peeled and bruised ginger. Add your rice and sauté until translucent.
Add water or broth in the proportion described earlier and simmer until done. Let rest, remove the spices, and fluff before serving.
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I love rice pudding and, yes, it makes me think of my mother. There are restaurants in this world dedicated to nothing but varieties of this lovely and delicious comfort food.
Mom's rice pudding is good with its creamy and raisin-y warmth, but I think the Philippines produces the definitive rice pudding.
This biko, a baked pudding made with sticky rice and coconut cream and serious caramelization, is sweet, sticky, brown-sugary, and coconut-y, and perhaps even transcendental when served with gently whipped unsweetened cream.
To make 8 servings, preheat the oven to 350 F. Remove the cream from two 14-ounce cans of coconut milk and place in a small bowl.
Bring the remaining coconut milk and ¾ cup of water to a simmer in a medium pot, add 2 cups of sticky rice, and cook for 12 to 15 minutes, stirring occasionally until the rice is sticky and resembles risotto.
Add ½ cup brown sugar. Stir well and take off the heat.
Pour into a buttered 8-inch pan or, if you really like crunchy edges, into buttered muffin pans. Mix another ½ cup of brown sugar with the reserved coconut cream and pour it evenly over the rice.
Bake for an hour or so, until the tops are dark brown and caramelized. Cool before serving.
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Forbidden black rice is a type of Chinese rice that was once reserved for the emperor and his family. Luckily, it is now available to us peasants, and it makes the best rice salad I know.
Black rice is soft, nutty, chewy, and delicious. Toast the rice in a tablespoon of oil, then add cold water in the suggested proportions and simmer gently for around 45 minutes.
Cool the rice, then add ½ cup of toasted pecans, ½ cup of dried cherries or cranberries, 3 diced scallions, and your favorite vinaigrette.
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For me, risotto elevates rice to heaven.
Risotto is made by starting with that same sauté of grains, then very slowly adding some wine and then hot liquid bit by bit, stirring constantly until a creamy rich mass is reached where every grain is distinct yet part of the whole.
Risotto is one of the great dishes of the world. The reason risotto works is that stirring constantly, while adding liquid slowly, continually breaks down the outer shell of the rice grains, releasing the sticky protein within.
At the very end of cooking, the rice is removed from the heat, and diced cold butter and grated Parmesan cheese are added to further this intense creaminess.
To make good risotto, you need Arborio, carnaroli or vialone rice, all short-grain varieties. There are other risotto varieties, but these are the most common.
Here is how to make 3 cups of finished risotto:
Bring 3 cups of good chicken stock to a simmer.
Heat 1 tablespoon of butter in a heavy sauté pan over medium heat. Add half of a finely chopped onion and cook until soft and translucent, about 10 minutes.
Add 1 cup of rice and stir until it is coated with the butter, about 1–2 minutes.
Add 1 cup of white wine and stir until the rice grains absorb all the liquid.
Then add hot stock, ½ cup at a time, stirring until almost all the liquid has been absorbed by the rice. Then add another ½ cup.
Adjust the temperature up or down if the liquid absorbs too quickly or too slowly. A slow roll is what you want. Keep stirring.
Keep adding liquid until the rice is still a bit chewy but definitely done, the whole mass is creamy and loose, and the rice is cooked to your taste. You might or might not use all the broth.
Remove the pan from the heat, add a few tablespoons of butter and ½ cup of grated parmesan cheese, maybe some diced parsley, salt, and pepper. Then let it sit for a few minutes.
The risotto should be not-quite-tender, perfect grains of creamy rice with a tiny bite still left, surrounded by oozy sauce.
A dish of well cooked risotto is warm, friendly, and satisfying, yet somehow complicated, sensual, and elegant at the same time. Like the perfect man.
This time of year, a dish of risotto tells me that the deprivations and chills of winter might truly be mere memories.
I will revel in this simple promising food, and maybe tomorrow I will even risk taking down the wreaths.