My mother has given me my great-grandmother's clay pot; it's hardly still in one piece and I know that eventually it'll split down the middle one day, but it's so beautifully worn in and so flavorful that I'm going to use it until that day. For years I couldn't get the hang of cooking rice in a pot because my mother's means of measuring was to eyeball it or measure it with her finger ("But my fingers aren't the same size as yours, how can I use that method?" "It's close enough!"), but in the past five years or so I've experimented enough that I've figured out how to do it with the pots I have at home. Can't lie, I kinda feel like a bamf every time I manage to make delicious rice without measuring anything!
And there are few things better in life than the smell of juk when it has reached that perfect cooking point, on the second day of the sweet rolling tumble when I open up the lid and the fragrance of slightly toasted brown jasmine rice rises up in a waft of steam.
In conclusion: THIS POST IS MAKING ME SO HUNGRY AND SO HAPPY ALL AT ONCE.
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Date: 2011-06-07 08:12 pm (UTC)And there are few things better in life than the smell of juk when it has reached that perfect cooking point, on the second day of the sweet rolling tumble when I open up the lid and the fragrance of slightly toasted brown jasmine rice rises up in a waft of steam.
In conclusion: THIS POST IS MAKING ME SO HUNGRY AND SO HAPPY ALL AT ONCE.