Chinese Sticky Rice

Warning: In the spirit of a Spartan-level attention to detail, I have included every ingredient that went into this dish. I apologize in advance to the squeamish.

Here are my five most favorite foods in the world:

1. Chinese barbecue sea cucumber
2. Spaghetti with meat sauce
3. Chinese sticky rice
4. Chinese beef noodle soup (thick noodles, please!)
5. Pizza (any kind except NY thin crust)

Thanks to the housewarming party last week, I feel like I can make an edible version of #2 and #5, the only two non-Chinese foods on the list. This means I am either inept or a race traitor, but most likely, I am both. However, thanks to extensive efforts by Karen to 1) advise me, and 2) give me a short break from playing Left 4 Dead every waking hour of my day, I managed to pull together a pot of Chinese Sticky Rice that is both delicious and easy (much like a certain someone’s mother I could list but totally won’t JOSH.)

Two more warnings: This food is the ugliest food in the world. I’m not kidding. Unless you grew up with it and have associated it Pavlov-style with the greatest flavors your mouth has ever known, it’s pretty hideous. No pictures, so I won’t dissuade you from doing making it. Two, this food requires Asians nearby, namely enough Asians to supply an Asian grocery store. While I’m certain that some of the ingredients can be substituted out without issue, there’s something about the Asian ingredients that makes this one special. Maybe I’ll try to cook a white person version, made entirely out of white person things. OR MAYBE NOT HOLLA BACK ISOLATIONISTS!

Ingredients:

• 3 cups Sweet Rice (do white people have this, maybe at their fancy organic stores? Either way, you can’t switch this one out.)
• 1-2 cups dried shiitake mushrooms
• Two chicken bouillon cubes
• 5 links (6-8 oz) Chinese sausage (I found it in the canned vegetable section of my local Asian grocery story, which makes pretty much zero sense–PS: It looks like beef jerky)
• 1/2 cup thin-sliced spring onions (only the white and light green parts)
• 1 tbs minced ginger
• 1 tbs vegetable oil
• 1/3 cup rice wine or medium-dry sherry (I ran out of rice wine, so used half and half)
• 3 tbs soy sauce
• 2 tbs oyster sauce
• 2 tsp sesame oil
• 1 tsp salt
• 1/2 tsp white pepper
• 1 fingertip (human)

There is a lot of pre-prep to this dish, so give yourself an ample two hours and find something cool to do. I bet you could learn to knit or make a pine cone bird feeder in the intervening time! You could start a club!

1. Soak your rice in a large receptacle with cold water for at least two hours. The water doesn’t have to stay cold, but it ought to start there. Ancient Chinese secret: this step cannot be skipped. If you don’t soak out some of the starch, you will have some kind of starch disaster. Before you start cooking for reals, put your rice in a strainer, rinse with some more cold water, and drain.

2. About an hour before your rice is done, chop up your veggies (get a really good mince on the ginger, if you fear it as I do) and cut your Chinese sausage. Quarter it lengthwise, then chop it up into 1/2″ lengths. If you’re a dunce, you’ll use a santoku knife for this part, then forget that Chinese sausage has the consistency of beef jerky, then you’ll slip and cut the tip of your finger off. I highly recommend this method, because I don’t really like you much. Finish cooking the dish with an improvised bandage of paper towel, packaging tape, and utmost misery.

3. About 30 minutes before your rice is done soaking, prepare a bath of warm water (I used about 3 cups) and soak your mushrooms. The recipe called for about 1 cup, but I am a ho for mushrooms, so I used two… handfuls. The more mushrooms you use, the more flavorful your mushroom water will be: keep this in mind. After the mushrooms soak for around 30 minutes, wring them out (it’s gross and awesome) and give them a coarse chop. I did long slices, because I love mushrooms. Then, reheat your mushroom water a wee bit, and dissolve two chicken bouillon cubes in it. Extra flavor? YES MA’AM.

4. Prepare your seasonings. Put your booze, soy sauce, oyster sauce, sesame oil, salt and pepper into a bowl. No reason except so you won’t have to measure while stir-frying. That step goes hella fast, and if you’ve followed directions, you’ll be frying one-handed anyways.

Okay, time for the actual cooking! You’ll want a wok or something that fries things well, and (and this is critical, unless you want to spend 12 hours cooking this like me) something else that retains heat well. One day, ladies and gentlemen, I will acquire some kind of absurd scientific dutch oven. Until then, a pot with a tight-fitting lid will have to do for you.

5. Put a wok over high heat until it just begins to smoke. Put the veggie oil into the wok until it starts to smoke.

6. Spring onions and ginger in the wok! 30 seconds!

7. Sausage in the wok! One minute!

8. Mushrooms in the wok! One minute!

9. Bowl o’ seasoning in the wok! One minute!

10. SWEET JESUS THAT WAS FAST GET THAT SHIT OFF THE STOVE GAH.

11. Dump your drained rice into the wok and stir around until everything seems pretty well amalgamated.

12. Dump the entire contents of your wok into a heat-retaining receptacle.  This is probably a good time to add your mushroom chicken broth. Yeah, let’s do it now. Don’t worry that it doesn’t look like enough fluid–trust in the rice. While the stove is still on high, bring the contents to a simmer, then turn the heat to low. Cover tight, then let it sit for 25 minutes. After it looks mostly done (the rice will be brown and sticky, with some occasional white specks), take your rice off the heat, stir it a bit, then re-cover and wait for 10 more minutes. It should be done and tasty by then.

Alert: Don’t use a pot with a scraped-up and horrible bottom. The rice at the bottom will form a thin crust that comes out easily with soaking, but also is delicious. If you can peel some of that off, it’s like fried gold.

Do you have any of those spring onions left? Chop up the dark green parts and use it as garnish. As I said, I am a ho, so I like a little more soy sauce. Ancient Chinese warning: According to my grammas, doing this will make your skin dark. Like a black person. Oh, my people. Sometimes, you are so charmingly racist.

A special note from Karen, ranked by one Ted Yokoyama as the most Asian girl in our group: You can add a ton of different things to this dish! They used to make it with a pork that is no longer used. You can add thin-sliced pork and reminisce about the old days, when the British subjugated us with drugs! Or you can add tiny dried shrimps from the yucky aisle of your local Asian grocery mart! Sometimes you will see this dish pressed into a shallow bowl and upended on a plate, with sweet & sour sauce and crushed peanuts as topping!

In short, yes, I know this is a very basic recipe. But the point is that it tastes and feels RIGHT, and doesn’t take enormous amounts of effort to make, contrary to what most Chinese mothers will tell you.

Conclusion: RICE! You make! Make strong like ox!