Tag: rice

Categories
Grains and Beans The Book

199. Foolproof Long-Grain Rice p.254

The recipe

Calling this a recipe is a bit of a stretch. It’s one step away from reading “follow package directions”. The ingredients are salt, long-grain white rice, and water. Normally I cook rice by boiling salted water, then adding rice, letting it come back to a boil, then reducing the heat to low and letting it steam for 20 minutes, then a 5 minute rest, off the heat, before serving. The only twist this recipe adds is that after adding the rice you let it boil for a few minutes until steam holes form in the surface, and the top looks dry. It then gets 15 minutes over lowest heat, and a 5 minute rest.

The Book claims to provide every recipe you’ll ever need, and I guess a basic rice recipe is important. The book doesn’t include recipes for plain cooked pasta, or boiled potatoes, but I know enough people who claim not to be able to cook rice that this is probably worthwhile.

The Good: This recipe produces properly cooked rice. The grains were fluffy and separate, soft with a little bit of bite left to them. It’s a simple thing, but poorly cooked rice can be a real disappointment.

The Bad: This technique is ever so slightly more complicated than the dump-the-rice-in-the-boiling-water-and-wait-20-minutes strategy, and I’m not sure the results are any different. Boiling until steam holes appear guarantees that the ratio of water to rice is correct, and if you’re worried about getting the rice just right by all means do this, but I get generally good results with my standard method.

The Verdict: My rice palate is pretty poor, to me, this rice was just as good as what I get by following the instructions on the package. However, the slim percentage of the population who eat rice often enough to have opinions about it, but don’t have a rice cooker, might get some added benefit from this technique.

Categories
Fish and Shellfish The Book

189. Shrimp in Adobo Sauce p.322

I can’t find a recipe for this one online.

Anyone following The Project for any length of time knows that I have a bit of a smoked pepper fetish. I get a little weak in the knees when I see the words “ancho chiles” in a recipe. You start this recipe by searing and soaking anchos, then puréeing them with garlic, onion, oregano, and dash of water. The paste is then fried and thinned with white wine, white vinegar, sugar, and salt. It’s simmered until it’s quite thick, and shrimp are mixed in and cooked. You serve the dish with rice, avocados, and cilantro.

The Good: I’m a sucker for spicy seafood dishes, and this was a lovely way of doing it. It tasted like an actual Mexican dish, and very little like the pathetic excuse for Mexican food you can find in Montreal (with a very few exceptions). I’m an enormous fan of adobo sauces like this because they combine heat, smoky depth, acid, sweetness, and aromatics in one cohesive sauce. It hits all the buttons there are to hit, and leaves me very very satisfied.

The Bad: I’m getting pickier about my adobo sauces, and while this was generally good, I’ve had and made better. My main issue was that there was too much ancho flavour, without enough else to balance it. The smokiness of anchos is wonderful, but it can be overwhelming if it’s too concentrated. I also object to the use of white vinegar, there’s nothing wrong with it, but it’s a missed opportunity, lemon or lime juice would have added another dimension, and white wine vinegar could have been a nice choice too. Similarly, white sugar is just fine, but honey, molasses, or brown sugar could have been more interesting.

While it’s not in any way the recipe’s fault, I decided to get clever and messed this dish up. It annoys me that most recipes call for peeling and deveining shrimp. The 21-25 shrimp called for in this recipe are small enough that eating the vein doesn’t really bother me, getting rid of it is a nice touch, but it’s not strictly necessary like it is with larger shrimp. What really kills me is getting rid of the shells. A huge amount of the flavour in shellfish is in their shells, and throwing it away is just no fun. I usually try to find a way to simmer the shells in some liquid going into the dish to boost the shrimp flavour. In this case I decided that my dining companion and I would just peel our shrimp after cooking. That was incredibly dumb, they were extremely messy, and we ended up losing a lot of the sauce along with the shells.

The Verdict: My love for all things in adobo continues, this wasn’t my favourite example but it worked fairly well, and it’s a good basis to start experimenting from. It took a little while, but no step was too frustrating. The final plate was lovely and colourful, and the cilantro and avocado were excellent compliments to the shrimp. I’ll absolutely make dishes very much like this one again, but I don’t think I’ll be following this recipe letter for letter again.

Categories
Grains and Beans The Book

181. Persian Rice with Pistachios and Dill p.258


The recipe

My parents who spent the last two years in India, have become rice snobs. I don’t know much about rice, or think too much about it. To me it’s a side dish, serviceable, and functional, but not really worthy of notice. My parents however are attuned to the subtle differences in texture, flavour, and aroma that distinguish great rice from the mediocre. I used the same basmati I always do for this dish (I bought a big burlap sack long ago, and I’m still working my way through it) but it came out much better than I could possibly have imagined. This rice was shockingly good, good enough to get me to rethink my whole position on rice.

In this dish basmati is rinsed in multiple changes of water, and boiled uncovered for a few minutes. Then things get weird. The rice is strained and allowed to drain while butter is melted in the bottom of the pot. The rice then goes back into the pot with alternating layers of chopped pistachios and fresh dill. You then poke holes in the layers of rice with with the back of a wooden spoon (to let steam move about?), and let it steam covered both with a kitchen towel and a lid for 30-35 minutes over moderately low heat. You then let it stand for a further half-hour, and serve.

This procedure builts up a crispy and deeply browned crust on the bottom called the tah-dig. The tah-dig is supposed to form a solid layer on the bottom of the pot, which you’re able to get out whole, and then break up and serve on top of the rice. The tah-dig is the most prized part of this dish, so everyone should be allotted his fair share. My tah-dig didn’t stay together, and it just crumbled in with the rest of the rice, so I mixed it in thouroughly to make sure everyone got some.

This rice is just absolutely amazing. It was perfectly cooked, I worried it would be overdone with such a long cooking time, but each grain was whole, and just slightly toothsome. The pistachio and dill flavours permeated the rice, but it was quite a subtle effect, and a delicious one. The grains in the tah-dig were cooked directly in butter, so they were about as overwhelmingly magnificent as you’d expect, with the very deep nuttiness of both browned butter, and roasted rice. I’m having trouble finding words to express how much I liked this rice, it’s really easy to make, and you owe it to yourself to try it.

I served the rice with a spicy Georgian stew on top, which was a mistake. The stew was excellent, and the flavours were complimentary, but this rice deserves to be eaten on it’s own. I can only imagine how wonderful this rice would be with grilled or poached salmon. This is far and away the best rice I have ever had, and I just can’t wait to make it again. It has absolutely earned its five mushroom rating.

Categories
Grains and Beans The Book

111. Wild Rice and Toasted Almond Pilaf p.262

The recipe

I messed this dish up quite badly, so badly I’m not sure it’s fair to count it. The main ingredient is 2 cups of wild rice, without further specification. I’m not a big rice eater, and I’d never cooked wild rice before. I went to the health food store and got two cups of the stuff in the bin labeled wild rice (riz sauvage). What I got was a mixture of rices, including wild. The wild rice grains are the long dark ones in the picture above, and the recipe should have been made entirely of those grains.

The rice is added to a pot of onions sautéed in olive oil, and left to toast for a few minutes. You then add chicken stock and water and simmer it for 1 – 1 1/4 hours. When the rice is ready you stir in some sliced almonds toasted with butter, as well as some salt and pepper. The flavours were pretty good here, nice standard pilaf fare. I like pilaf a lot, and make it often. I usually add mushrooms and diced red pepper, but the pilaf base was solid and tasty. The real problem was the rice. I followed the wild rice instructions with my non-wild rice mixutre and when I checked it after 45 minutes it had turned to gooey gummy mush. It was rice pilaf pudding. That’s to be expected given that I blatantly ignored the instructions, but I’ve decided to include the recipe as an honest mistake rather than a re-do. There are potentially many products labeled wild rice out there, and The Book didn’t help me to clarify the issue. It looks like Teena at the other gourmet project also used a wild rice mix (although she knew what she was doing and cooked it for less time) so I’m not alone in this.

If I’d cooked things properly it would have been a fairly tasty side. It quite subtly flavoured as it was, and the wild rice has a much more pronounced flavour than the other types. I worry that the flavour of the wild rice might have overwhelmed the dish, but I’m not really in a position to make that judgment. My version was mushy and bad, but that’s probably not the recipe’s fault.