146. Indian Baked Rice (p. 258)

I don't think that I ever had Indian food until I was in college, but since then, I've loved it. Chicken tikka masala is definitely on my short-list of death-row meals. So, I'm glad that The Book has a number of Indian dishes for me to try as I work through The Project. This recipe was the first of The Book's Indian recipes that I've made, and I was pretty happy with it for the most part.

First I rinsed and drained some basmati rice in a few changes of cold water, then I set it aside to drain for a while. Next I heated some canola oil in my large Dutch oven and cooked some slivered almonds until they were golden. Or at least that was the goal. As usual, I let the almonds cook for just a few seconds too long, and many of them got overcooked. This is becoming a routine whenever The Book calls for toasting or frying anything. I always over-do it. I'll get the hang of it, eventually. I took the nuts out of the hot oil, and let them drain on some paper towels.

Next I cooked some onion in the hot oil, and added some garlic, jalapeno, grated fresh ginger, salt, and some of the garam masala I made. Then I added the rice and cooked it with the onion and spices for a little while. I added some chicken broth and cooked it on the stove for a bit and then covered it and moved it to the oven for a while longer. Once all of the liquid had been absorbed, I removed the rice from the oven and let it sit for a while. I sprinkled it with the fried almonds and served it with some garam-masala-rubbed grilled chicken breasts and some braised leeks.

This dish was good, but not great. The rice was a little dry, which might have been my fault. But the flavor wasn't as intense as I would have liked it to be. The scent and flavor of the garam masala was there, but it was a bit more subtle than it could have been. If you make this, I'd suggest using a heavy hand with the seasonings.


Date Cooked: April 26, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: B+

140. Sushi-Roll Rice Salad (p. 151)

The Book calls this recipe a "deconstructed sushi roll." It could also be called a "California Roll in a Bowl."

First, the rice. After all, "sushi" means vinegar rice. I rinsed some sushi rice (medium-grain Japanese rice) in a few changes of water, and then I put it in a sieve to drain. Then, I combined it with some water in a pot, brought it to a boil, cooked it for a few minutes, and then took it off the heat to stand, covered, for a while longer. The short cooking time, plus the longer steaming time off the heat results in a tender, chewy sushi rice with just the right amount of stickiness. While the rice was sitting, I brought some rice vinegar, sugar and salt to boil in a small saucepan just long enough to dissolve all of the sugar. Then I spread the rice into a shallow baking dish and sprinkled the vinegar mixture over it and tossed it with a little wooden paddle that someone gave us in a "sushi kit." The step of spreading the rice in a baking dish and gently sprinkling it with the vinegar might seem like unnecessary overkill, but I remember seeing something on TV once about how sushi is made, and the cooling and seasoning of the rice is apparently a very important part of its taste and texture. I think that it would be a mistake to just dump the vinegar into the pot of rice and start stirring away.

Next, the vegetables. First, using a vegetable peeler, I made some very thin carrot slices, which I then cut into diagonal strips (sounds like a pain, but it only took a couple of minutes). Next, I chopped some scallions and seedless cucumber. (The Book's instruction to "seed" the "seedless" cucumber struck me as a bit odd, but maybe that's just me.)

To make the dressing, I whisked together some wasabi paste, water and canola oil in a large bowl. (As I've noted a couple of times, I'm cooking dairy/soy/gluten free these days. I made my own wasabi paste using wasabi powder and water because the prepared wasabi paste contained "lactose." Also, The Book calls for "vegetable oil," but if you read the lables, every brand of "vegetable oil" is 100% "soybean oil." So, I used canola instead.) Then I added the rice, carrots, cucumber, scallion and some chopped pickled ginger and toasted sesame seeds. I tossed it all together and topped it off with sliced avacado, and a sprinking of nori "confetti" that I cut with kitchen shears from a sheet of toasted nori.

The Book suggests using fresh shiso leaves to plate the salad. That would make a dramatic presentation, but this was just a casual Sunday night dinner at home, and it probably would have required a trip to the Super 88 Market in Boston's Chinatown (the only place I know of to get Aisan produce). So, I skipped them.

This dish was a nice surprise. It was delicious and pretty, too. We really liked the taste of the rice with the nice crunch of the cucumbers and carrots. The rich and creamy avacado (perfectly ripe!) was the perfect contrast to the crispness. The rice was tender with the right mix of sweet and sour (sugar/vinegar balance). It really tasted like an unrolled California roll. The only thing missing was the imitation crab meat, but that's my least favorite part of California rolls anyway.

Date Cooked: April 19, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

128. Crunchy Vegetable and Brown Rice Salad (p. 150)

I've never thought that there was anything strange about pasta salad. So why would I even think for a second that there's anything odd about rice salad. Rice salad? You've never heard of it either? Well, now that I've made this recipe, my eyes have been opened to a whole new world of salad possibilities.

The first thing I did to make this salad was to make the rice. The Book calls for short grain brown rice. I've never used this kind of rice before. These short, chubby grains of brown rice are about the size and shape of the Arborio rice that you'd use for risotto, but they're a lot less starchy. You cook it more like pasta than rice, boiling it in lots of salted water and draining it in a colander and rinsing it with cold water when it's done cooking.

While the rice was cooking, I chopped up some carrots, celery, and bell peppers into quarter-inch dice. This recipe is definitely good practice for your knife skills. The Book calls for red bell peppers, but I used red, yellow and orange to give the salad more color. I blanched these vegetables in boiling water for one minute, drained them in a colander and then plunged the colander into a large bowl of ice water to stop the cooking.

Next, I made the dressing. I whisked together some lemon juice, chicken broth, country-style whole grain mustard, olive oil, and some salt and pepper. I tossed the dressing with some baby arugula, the blanched vegetables, some chopped scallions, and the cool rice.

This salad was beautiful and delicious. It looked like a party on a plate ... like brightly colored confetti. The textures were excellent. The crunchy vegetables, crisp arugula and tender rice all combined together very well. The dressing was light, bright and uncomplicated. The Book says that this salad can be eaten as a main course. I served this salad with my Seared Salmon with Balsamic Glaze, and it was a nice match. I think that this salad would be a welcome addition to a summer picnic, too.

Date Cooked: March 21, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: B+

126. Congee (Chinese Chicken and Rice Porridge) (p. 122)

One of my favorite books of all time (and favorite movies, for that matter) is The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck. The story follows Wang Lung on his journey from a modest country farmer to a wealthy aristocrat. Throughout the rises and falls of his fortunes, Wang Lung always remembers his connection to the land and the importance of his family.

According to The Book (the Gourmet Cookbook, not The Good Earth) Congee was often eaten morning, noon and night in Chinese peasant homes. So it's no surprise that this recipe made me think of The Good Earth, and Wang Lung's humble and constant companion, O-Lan. As I made this hearty, rustic dish, I could picture O-Lan patiently tending the fire under a large kettle of rice porridge, and then serving it to Wang Lung and his crusty old father.

They say that good things come to those who wait, and that you can't rush greatness. But when it's already 6:30 and you're looking at a recipe with a total cooking time of five and a half hours, you do the best you can. Did I cut a few corners? Did I cook the stock for two hours instead of three? Did I cook the rice for one hour instead of two? Would it have been better if I hadn't rushed it? Yes on all counts. But, you know what? It was pretty good anyway. I really liked it, and I'd make it again when I have the time to do it right. (And just when will that be? No, really ... when will that be?)

Other than time (that's time, not thyme), you really don't need much to make this recipe. Start by cutting a whole chicken into eight serving pieces, put it in a pot and bring it to a boil, skimming off the gunk that bubbles up at the surface. The Book doesn't say whether you're supposed to put the carcass (what was leftover after I cut the chicken into serving pieces) into the pot. I didn't, but I suppose I could have. Reduce to a simmer and add some Chinese rice wine, some thick slices of ginger and a few smashed scallions. After about 20 minutes of simmering, the breast meat is cooked through. The Book says to remove one of the breast halves from the pot and set it aside to cool. This will become the shredded chicken served on top of the finished porridge. If I had it to do again, I would have removed both breast halves. There simply wasn't enough meat in the finished dish. Then, leave the stock to simmer for about three hours (or just barely two hours, if you are in a rush like me).

Strain the stock and discard the solids. Add the rice, bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for about two hours (or just barely one hour, if you are in a rush like me). The Book says that the finished porridge should have the consistency of oatmeal. Mine was a little more watery than it was supposed to be, but it was late and I needed to get to bed. Anyway, I was making this a couple of days before we planned on eating it. I knew that the rice would continue to absorb the liquid as it sat in the refrigerator. So, by the time we re-heated it, the consistency was just about right.

To serve, I topped the porridge with the shredded chicken breast, some finely sliced scallions, finely chopped ginger and some salt and pepper. The flavor was good, if somewhat subtle (I'm sure that this had to do with the abbreviated cooking time). But, it had a nice fragrance and the ginger, chicken and scallion flavors came through. It also had a slight, but pleasant, sweetness. The texture was a little mooshy, but in a comforting, and not off-putting way. I thought that because of all of the rice and liquid, this would be a real "belly-bomb" of dish, but surprisingly the meal didn't have staying power, and I was looking for more to eat later (cookies and ice cream anyone?).


Date Cooked: March 15, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B

107. Chicken and Rice Soup (p. 122)

A lot of people have been talking about the Great Depression these days. When Herbert Hoover promised Americans "a chicken in every pot," I wonder if he had this recipe in mind.

This is, without a doubt, a recipe for our times. It is simple, cheap and delicious. Really, this soup couldn't be easier (The Book calls it "the simplest soup ever made from scratch"). All you need to do is throw all of the ingredients - including a whole chicken, brown rice and some onion, carrots and celery - in a pot and simmer it for an hour. As the soup simmers, the soup makes its own stock. When it's done, just take the chicken out of the pot, pull the meat apart and put it back in the soup. That's it.

This is also a very economical recipe. The only thing I needed to buy to make this soup was a chicken (and I even had a coupon!). I already had all of the other ingredients in my cupboard and refrigerator. And picking up on the waste-not-want-not theme, I supplemented the soup with whatever leftover vegetables I had on hand: a bit of green cabbage, a zucchini, some frozen green beans and corn. Not only was it thrifty and resourceful to add the extra veggies, I think that it made the soup all the more wholesome and delicious.

Speaking of delicious, this was one of the best soups I've made as part of The Project. The broth was fresh and bright, the veggies were delicious, the brown rice gave a nice substance and texture, and the chicken was perfectly cooked. It was tender and moist. I will definitely make this soup again, maybe even as soon as next week.

Date Cooked: February 8, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: VERY easy
Rating: A

UPDATE: 2/23/09
I made this soup again yesterday. This time, I added some zucchini, summer squash, red bell pepper, brocolli, and a whole mess of frozen veggies: corn, green beans, and even some snow peas. The result was just as good as the first time I made it. It was a little sweeter than last time, I think because of the red pepper and the rather large amount of frozen corn that I used. Delicious just the same.

101. Best Rice Pudding (p. 827)

If this recipe* is the "Best Rice Pudding," then what does that mean for the other rice pudding recipe in The Book (Dried Cherry and Raisin Rice Pudding, p. 827)? Is it the "second-best" rice pudding, or (perish the thought!) the "worst" rice pudding? I'm sure that any offense to the other rice pudding recipe was unintended by The Book's editors.

Well, I'll just have to wait until I've made both rice puddings until I can say for sure that this one really is the "best," but for the time being, I can vouch for it being pretty darn good.

I can't remember the last time I had rice pudding, but I know that I like it. It's sweet, creamy and starchy. It's one of those great comforting, old-fashioned dishes that makes you feel warm and happy.

To make this dish, I started by making some white rice flavored with butter, salt and lemon zest. (Before I went any further, I tasted the rice, and made a note to myself that this lemony-buttery rice would be good with some grilled fish.) Next I simmered some whole milk, sugar and half of a vanilla bean sliced in half lengthwise. I've never cooked with real vanilla beans before. I've always been scared off by the price (more than $8 for two beans at my local mega-mart!). I suppose I have to admit that it really did make a difference. The vanilla flavor in the finished pudding was delicious and intense, and not at all like the flavor you get from vanilla extract, even the good stuff.

Finally, I stirred in the cooked rice and some raisins and simmered until most of the liquid had absorbed and it had the texture of risotto.

The Book says to cool until just warm before serving. I made this the day before I was going to serve it, though. So, I cooled it to room temperature and put it in the refrigerator overnight. Just before I served it, I put the pudding in small bowls and heated it up in the microwave for about a minute. A little dusting of cinnamon on top, and it was ready to enjoy.

This pudding was great. Nothing fancy, just a simple, comforting, warming dessert with a wonderful creaminess and texture. The intense but smooth vanilla flavor and the plump, sweet raisins make this pudding special. My wife had some of the leftover pudding the next day cold. I tasted it that way, but it wasn't for me. I preferred it warm.

Date Cooked: January 24, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B+

*There are lots of rice pudding recipes on epicurious.com, but this isn't one of them.

98. Chicken and Sausage Jumbalaya (p. 369)

These days I'm looking for recipes that offer a big return on the time investment. This recipe* was exactly what I was looking for. This dish made enough food for dinner three nights in a row ... and it was so good that we didn't mind the repetition.

I was surprised to learn that jumbalaya traces it roots to paella. I guess it makes sense. Both are hearty dishes of meat, vegetables and rice with a rich stock. I also learned the difference between jumbalaya and the other classic Louisiana dishes, gumbo and etouffee. In the former, everythng is cooked together, but in the traditional preparations of the latter, the rice is cooked separately.

To make this dish, first, I browned some chicken pieces, and by some, I mean five pounds! (I told you this recipe makes a lot of food.) Then I browned some sliced smoked turkey sausage in the oil and rendered chicken fat. The Book calls for andouille sausage, but because my wife won't eat pork, I opted for turkey sausage. Once that was done, I set aside the meat and drained off almost all of the fat and cooked onions, celery, green peppers and garlic. Then, I put the chicken back in the pot, along with some chopped canned tomatoes, chicken stock, water and cayenne. I simmered all of this for a while.

Then, The Book's instructions get a little confusing. I had to read it a few times, but once I figured it out, it made sense. First, you take the chicken out of the pot and put it in a bowl. Then you measure the cooking liquid and vegetables to make sure that it's seven cups. If more, cook it down, if less, add water. Then add uncooked rice to the seven cups of vegetables and cooking liquid. Arrange the chicken on top and bake it for about a half hour.

Cooking the rice in the same liquid that the chicken and vegetables simmered it gives it a wonderful richness. Baking the rice instead of cooking it on the stovetop was great, too. The even heat of the oven makes sure that each grain of rice is cooked perfectly.

This was an excellent, hearty stick-to-your ribs meal. It reheated well, and as I said, it was so tasty, we didn't mind the repetition of eating it night after night. It would also make a crowd-pleasing meal for a party.

Date Cooked: January 11, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

* This recipe is not online.

23. Foolproof Long-Grain Rice (p. 254)

Before I started The Project, I had a few doubts. Can I really do this? Am I up to the task? After all, I can't even cook rice! I'm not kidding. Rice and me have not been friends. Whenever I make it, I study the package directions and follow them carefully. But the result is always the same: Dissapointment. Overcooked, undercooked, soupy, and sometimes crunchy. Come on, this is a basic item! If I can't cook this, what makes me think that I can cook the gastronomic delicacies in The Book?

But when Lisa, one of the finalists on Top Chef, botched her rice (not once, but twice!), I was reassured. It's not just me! If the pros have a hard time with this, then I'm in good company.


So, when I saw this recipe in The Book for "Foolproof Long-Grain Rice," I perked up. Can it be true? Have the folks at Gourmet really discovered a foolproof way to cook rice? Well, they have, and the rice came out great.


The cooking method is not what you're used to doing if, like me, you follow the package directions. I kept reading and re-reading the recipe in disbelief as I went through the steps. Do they really want me to do it like that? First you bring the rice, water and salt (in very specific proportions) to a boil. Then, in a break with tradition, you continue to let it boil (uncovered! who ever heard of such a thing?) for a while. Then you reduce the heat and steam it for a time. Finally, you take it off the heat and let it rest, all the while letting it be as it does its thing. The result? Rice perfection. The grains were tender, fluffy and just a little bit sticky.


My only complaint is that the rice was a bit too salty. Next time I make this (and I will make this again, every time I serve rice) I'll reduce the salt by half and see what happens. Who knows, maybe that's the secret to the perfect cooking? We'll see.

Date Cooked: July 13, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A- (perfectly cooked, but too salty)