Brown Rice, How Nice

I mentioned previously that I purchased five bags of good sushi gohan during my most recent Mitsuwa trip. What I did not reveal is that one of those bags of short-grained goodness contained unpolished seeds of undeniably brown rice.

This is pretty big news, since I have not had brown rice in the house in over ten years. I think I must have bought some during a brief flirtation with vegetarianism in the 1990s in the UK, brought on by my sincere desire to avoid having my brain spongified. This health kick spilled over into a well-intentioned enthusiasm for earnest, earthy-crunchy ingredients generally and brown rice in particular, although I don't recall ever actually using it except in the odd casserole. Luckily for all, we moved to the States shortly afterwards and both las vacas locas and brown rice became relics of the distant past.

My interest has been re-piqued in recent weeks, however, mostly because I deeply miss the grainy nuttiness provided by a good piece of artisanal, thick-crusted bread. I wondered whether brown rice might not do something to fill the gap. I remembered that the Diva had bought a bag of Kagayaki brown rice during our last joint Mitsuwa run and subsequently declared it the best she'd ever had. So I steeled myself and bought a bag.

I must confess that I do have a loaf of gluten-free bread in the freezer, where it has languished, untried, for a couple of weeks. Something about it fails to inspire confidence. One day, one day.

Deciding to prepare the rice for dinner when I got home, I was brought up short by the cooking instructions on the label. I had not realized I would need to devote four hours of my life to making the grain palatable: three hours of soaking - shorter in summer, longer in winter, according to the experts - followed by 45 minutes to an hour in the pot. It was already five o'clock and the Kid Squid and I like to eat early (we are Netflixing Lost - the entire series - and it throws out our schedule if we don't dine spot on six o'clock). With a deep sigh, I postponed the Kagayaki's debut until such time as I could come home early from work.

Yesterday, I rinsed it, soaked it as per requirements (three hours exactly, since it is neither summer nor winter), and cooked it until it was done. I should interject here that I have a fantastic, fool-proof, completely awesome method for rice cookery, taught to me by my Tokyo Guru (let's call her 'Naoko', since that is her real name). Naoko believes (somewhat unusually for a Japanese cook) that electric rice cookers are the devil's playthings, and instead taught me always to use the stove and a round-bottomed, slope-sided, glass-covered pot. I have done so for the last fifteen years with perfect results every time. With glass you can tell when you've reached boilage (the signal to turn the heat down to a low simmer) and, later on, you can tell when all the water has been absorbed (the signal to turn off the heat and let the pot sit for fifteen minutes or so) - all without removing the lid and letting precious steam escape. The rounded bottom means that rice grains don't get stuck in the corners and dry out too much.

My rice pot (it's actually a large saucier, I think) has Emeril's name on it and, grateful for the cunningness of its design and transparency of its lid, I forgive the Bam-man everything. The pan proved its value yet again during my latest escapade, since the rice bag's instructions were maddeningly vague as to how long the cooking time should be. I'm guessing this imprecision is but one more unfortunate result of climate change, but at least the glass lid prevented it from wreaking havoc on my dinner.

The resulting rice was nutty and toothsome, a bit more assertive than the traditional white variety but none the worse for that. I found that it helped if I didn't think of it as sushi rice, which has a softer, utterly uniform texture. Where the brown rice really shone was underneath leftovers for lunch today, when I microwaved some of the original batch under a ladleful of heavily spiced chicken stew. Where normally I would be craving thick bread for moppage purposes, I found the rice did a perfect job of soaking up the nourishing richness. I won't serve brown rice with steamed fish or as an accompaniment to minimalist Japanese dishes, but it will make an excellent anti-bread foil for thick stews and braises this winter. Luckily enough, that's just what I was going for.

The gluten-free loaf can stay in the freezer for now.

Next up: I attempt to take an attractive picture of a bowl of brown rice.