Friday, November 2, 2012

Something about this boy makes me bad at preparing rice

The first meal I ever prepared for my husband (we were acquaintances at the time) was the same meal I made for myself tonight: Ling Ling Potstickers and rice.  My dinner tonight was waaay better than that first attempt.  You'd think this would be the easiest meal ever; it involves boiling the potstickers for 5-6 minutes and cooking rice and water for 20 min or so.

Somehow my roommate and I were way off with the rice vs water proportions and all attempts to rectify the situation were unsuccessful.  The rice was under-cooked and burned all at the same time.  We openly acknowledged our failure because I think the next worse thing to ruining dinner is to have the dinner guests feel obligated to eat and like it anyway. He and his roommate who participated in the meal were very gracious and mostly avoided the rice per our suggestion.  I remember feeling like this was an opportunity to prove myself as a capable cook to two handsome single men that I wanted to take me on a date (not at the same time), and I'd failed miserably.

I promise I'd cooked good rice before, but I don't think I have ever cooked good rice since.  I remember the right proportions now, but something goes wonky every time and it comes out too wet or too dry, overcooked or under-cooked. I still eat it, as punishment for my failure.  He still eats it, because he loves me (or is just not motivated to make a new batch himself... let's be real, it's probably that).

The last batch I made was the best so far, but that isn't much praise.  Its like being optimistic about job growth when the percentage is only back to sorry threshold it started at (zing!  sorry I've been reading politics most of the evening so I can feel like an informed voter).  The batch was still a bit dry, but at least it wasn't wet and congealing.  It makes me feel slightly better to learn that the altitude may have something to do with my failures, but only slightly.  It's still just grain and water.  How can somebody screw it up so many times?

Yesterday he made the rice for our lunch, probably the first or maybe second time since our marriage.  It turned out perfectly.  I don't know how he does it.  I vote him rice master of the family in perpetuity.
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