White on rice. Or something.

You can pretty much tell where you are in China by the starch you are eating. Generally speaking, wheat is served in the cold, dry areas to the north and west, while the humid south and east are the places where rice grows well. Other grains and tubers round out the cuisines, of course, but all in all, wheat and rice form the bases for every meal. In fact, starches are such fundamental parts of all these food traditions that they are called the “main food,” or zhǔshí 主食, in Chinese.

Pour water into the rinsed rice

Everywhere outside of North and West China relies on rice in some form, though, for the daily meal, and most folks just steam up a couple cups while they are cooking dinner. It’s an easy and pretty much foolproof way to round out your meal.

If you are old school, you can try steaming rice in bamboo steamer baskets. The main thing to remember is that the rice has to be soaked before steaming. Some people advise that you soak it for 8 hours or overnight, but it really depends upon the type of rice and how fresh it is. I tend to soak white rice for around 3 hours and then use the fingernail test to know when it’s ready to be cooked. Check out the directions for Fermented Rice if you want detailed directions on making steamed rice the old-fashioned way.

Bring to a full boil

Nowadays, though, almost every Chinese person I knows has an automatic rice steamer that gets used on a daily basis. When I lived in Taiwan years ago, the go-to brand was Tatung, and it was a simple, hard to break cooker that could also be used to steam fish or whatever else was on the menu. Today’s rice cookers tend to be more dedicated to cooking nothing other than rice, and in my opinion the Japanese have this subject nailed. The best one on the market right now is the Zojirushi “Neuro Fuzzy” rice cooker, which also has to win some sort of prize for the strangest name. These are fully automatic, so if you cook a lot of rice, this is something to seriously consider. Just follow the directions that come with the steamer.

However, I did not have an electric rice steamer even after almost three decades of living with a Chinese guy simply because I had always worked in tiny kitchens with limited counter space. Be that as it may, I served rice many times a week by simply cooking it on the stove. When done right, it’s foolproof.

Set your timer

Although this is not technically steamed rice, what you end up is virtually indistinguishable from the real deal. Brown rice cooks up perfectly this way, too. Lots of rice producers will have directions printed on the package, and that is the perfect place to start because each brand and variety of rice definitely is different. Don’t add any salt or oil when you are cooking the rice for a Chinese meal, even if the package tells you to, as this is just not done in East Asia. However, you can always add oil and seasonings after the rice is cooked, as with fried rice or Taiwanese Sticky Rice.

Another thing that I've come to love is the array of different rices on display in the bulk section of many supermarkets nowadays. This allows me to buy just a pound or two of whatever looks delicious to me that day, and then I can look forward to trying something new the next time around. If you don't plan to use your rice up within a week or so, consider storing it in the refrigerator to prevent it from getting buggy.

Simple ingredients & recipe

Shown in these pictures is organic jasmine rice, which has a deep perfume that I adore. What I like to do at the store is smell each bin, as my nose unerringly informs me as to what is really fresh. Other rices are just as delicious, of course, and I could not live without plain white rice, brown basmati, sticky Thai black, or inky forbidden rice. They all taste and look and feel so different from each other that sometimes it's hard to believe they're actually related.

One thing you should note is that the measuring cup for a rice cooker holds about ¾ cup - not a full cup - so adjust your measurements accordingly.

This is the recipe I have used since forever:

Stovetop rice

Shǔizhǔ báifàn 水煮白飯

Makes about 3 cups

1 cup plain white raw short-grain rice

1½ cups water

1. Rinse the rice in a sieve until the water runs clear. Dump the rice into a 3- or 4-cup saucepan, preferably with a heavy bottom and a clear lid. Pour in the water and swirl the rice around in it to loosen up any clumps.

Rice with the variation below

2. Bring the water to a full boil and then turn the heat down to low. Cover the pan and let the rice slowly cook for 17 to 20 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and let the rice sit covered for another 10 minutes. Fluff the rice up with chopsticks or a fork and serve.

For brown rice, use 2 cups water and cook the rice for 45 minutes, or follow the package directions.

     *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   * 

One of the really nice things about simple foods like rice is that they can be dressed up with pretty much zero effort. The following is one example. I actually got the idea for this from Nigel Slater's Kitchen Diaries, a book I cannot recommend enough. Few people write as poetically about food as Mr. Slater, and I get hungry just reading one of his beautifully shaped recipes, which seem to call upon all of the senses, as well as memories, the weather, and how he's feeling just at that moment. Sheer bliss is eating something good while reading his books. 

The star attraction

Cilantro rice
Yuánsuī fàn 芫荽飯
Makes about 3 cups

Cook the rice as directed above, and just before serving, fold in:

1 cup (or so) coarsely chopped cilantro
2 tablespoons green onion mingyou
A couple grinds of black pepper

This rice doesn't keep long because cilantro (aka coriander, aka Chinese parsley) hates to be anything other than fresh, uncooked, and sprightly. So, make only as much of this rice as you are planning to eat in one sitting. It's especially delicious with something like a broiled or grilled bit of fish. 

Taiwanese sticky rice two insanely delicious ways

Rice in Taiwan is the centerpiece of almost any meal. Normally it appears as basic steamed grains served in a large covered bowl with a bamboo paddle, and this acts as a mild counterpoint to all of the salty, spicy, rich, and flavorful dishes that surround it. 

           

But if you happen to be at a feast of some sort, there is a good chance that a big bowl of Savory Sticky Rice (youfan) will appear, and that to me is one of the best parts of the celebration. Bits of pork, black mushrooms, and crispy shallots mingle with the seasoned rice in sort of a deconstructed Chinese tamale. (You can, in fact, wrap either one of these recipes in bamboo leaves and then steam them for the perfect zongzi; tuck in yolks from Brined Eggs for a special treat.)

           

Steamed long-grain sticky rice

Molded sticky rice (migao) is almost the same thing, but because it comes in individual portions, it is invariably street food. 

Both of these dishes are really little more than riffs on fried rice, with long-grain sticky rice used instead of the usual jasmine rice. The reason for this is that long-grain sticky rice is chewy and keeps its shape well, unlike round glutinous rice, which can mush up when liquid is added to the mixture as here.

           

My favorite place to indulge my love for migao was at a little hole-in-the-wall in the Taipei suburb of Shipai that was operated by a Taiwanese lady down the street from the apartment where we lived for a while. I would often stumble into her place comatose from the long bus ride home from an even longer day at work, famished and cranky, and she would give me a welcoming smile as she plunked down a bowl of her delicious rice and sliced braised goose.

           

She seemed to make the best migao anywhere, and it is one that I have attempted to re-create here. Her migao was steamed in bamboo cups that had been used for so many years that they were deeply tanned with layer after layer of soy sauce and oil. 

I bought cups just like hers from a Mr. Lin on Zhongshan North Road who did nothing but carve these simple cups and weave bamboo strips into traditional steamers, but the cups cracked in the dry air of California, and so I've devised a great substitute: regular old glass jelly jars, the kind that are used for canning. They’re cheap, they can be steamed and cleaned a zillion times over, and you can use them for other things in-between your sticky rice celebrations. (Any other kind of heatproof bowl or cup can be used, though.)

           

Tasting like the most delightful stuffing you've ever enjoyed outside of your grandma’s Thanksgiving table, this is the essence of Taiwan as far as I’m concerned: rice, pork, black mushrooms, soy sauce, and fried shallots.

Savory sticky rice

Yóufàn 油飯

Tender mushroom

Southern Fujian, Taiwan
Serves 8 to 10

4 dried black mushrooms

2 tablespoons dried shrimp

Filtered water as needed

2 cups long-grain glutinous rice

3 ounces chilled pork belly, skin removed

1½ tablespoons dark soy sauce

2 tablespoons rice wine (mijiu)

Fresh ground black pepper

6 tablespoons Shallot Mingyou, or toasted sesame oil

¾ cup Fried Shallots

½ cup Braised Peanuts

1 teaspoon sugar

Garnish:

Chopped cilantro

* * *

Molded sticky rice

Mĭgāo 米糕

Serves 8 to 10

The above recipe for Savory Sticky Rice, except use only 2 tablespoons oil and no braised peanuts

Eight (8-ounce) jelly jars
Spray oil

Cut out any dark veins

¼ cup crushed fried peanuts

Chopped cilantro

Soy paste (jiangyougao)

1. For both recipes, use the following directions: The night before you plan to make this dish, place the mushrooms and shrimp in separate bowls, rinse them with tap water, and then cover each ingredient with cool filtered water (at least ½ cup water for the mushrooms). Let them plump up overnight. (You may also prepare them the same day as the rice by covering them with boiling water; the flavor and texture will not be as good, but still tasty.) Cut off the mushroom stems and save them for stock, and reserve the soaking liquid; cut the caps into thin slices. Pick out and discard any shrimp that are discolored, drain off and discard the soaking liquid, and cut off any sandy veins that you see; keep the shrimp whole.

2. The next day, rinse the rice in a strainer, then place it in a medium work bowl. Cover the rice with cool tap water and soak for around 2 hours, or until it passes the fingernail test. Drain the rice and steam (traditional method) for about 40 minutes, or until cooked but still chewy. Remove the rice from the steamer.

Molded in custard cups

3. Take the chilled pork belly out of the fridge and slice it against the grain into thin pieces, and then cut these into thin vertical strips so that you have alternating layers of fat and meat. Place the meat in a small work bowl and toss them with the soy sauce, rice sine, and black pepper; let the meat marinate in a cool place while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

4. If you are making molded sticky rice, reserve 16 mushroom slices and 8 shrimp as garnish; chop the rest of the shrimp and add it to the rest of the mushroom slices. If you are making the savory sticky rice, chop all of the shrimp and add them to the mushrooms. Drain off and reserve the meat marinade.

5. Heat a wok over medium-high heat and then add the mingyou or sesame oil. Toss in the chopped shrimp and mushroom slices and stir-fry them for a couple of minutes to release their fragrance. Add the drained meat and fried shallots to the wok and continue to stir-fry these until the pork is almost done, then add half of the mushroom soaking liquid, reserved pork marinade, and steamed rice. Toss these together, allowing the liquid to loosen the clumps; add the rest of the mushroom liquid when the rice becomes dry. If making the savory sticky rice, add the braised peanuts and toss. Sprinkle on the sugar, toss some more, and taste before adjusting the seasoning. (The molded rice will be served with soy paste, so be sure not to oversalt it.)

6. If you are preparing savory sticky rice, you’re done; just pile it into a serving bowl and sprinkle on some cilantro. Serve it hot.

Dried mushrooms plumped up

7. For molded sticky rice, spray 8 jelly jars or custard cups with oil. Place 2 mushroom slices and 1 shrimp in the bottom of each jar. Then, divide the rice among the jars and pat it down gently so that there are no air pockets. Steam the molded sticky rice for about 10 minutes to heat it through, turn the jars over into individual rice bowls, sprinkle with the chopped peanuts and cilantro, and drizzle on soy paste to taste (about 1 tablespoon per serving), and then deliver it to your waiting guests while it is still very hot.

8. Both recipes freeze well and can be steamed until piping hot before serving.

Lamb & raisin pilaf from China's great northwest

Fragrant rice medleys stretch all the way across the main body of Asia, from the buttery rice and noodle pilafs of Armenia, the pilavs of Turkey, and the Persian polows that hover around the eastern edge of the Mediterranean and start trickling east into the desert regions of Central Asia, where the Uzbekis know it as palov and the Russians as plov, down through South Asia and the brilliant yellow pulaos of India and palaus of Afghanistan, and then curling back up over the Himalayas into western China, where the Uyghurs call it polo.

All along the way, the name stays very similar – pilaf, pilav, polow, palov, plov, pulao, palau, and polo, plus an assortment of alternate spellings in between – but when it gets to China, such foreign nomenclature is tossed out the window in favor of a description that goes right to the heart of the matter. 

The Chinese refer to this West China creation as zhuafan, or “grabbed rice,” because this is one of the few Chinese rice dishes that are not eaten with chopsticks, but rather with the fingers of the right hand in the Muslim manner.

Echoes of Central Asia therefore remain, and it is of course completely halal. This is an ideal accompaniment to any of the local lamb dishes, as bits of that meat dot the rice along with fruit and vegetables to provide visual and aromatic contrast: onions, golden raisins, and carrots.

The standard recipes I looked at called for a sort of fried rice, with cooked rice browned in the fat from a lamb’s tail and then simply tossed with all of the other ingredients. It was good, but I transported the traditional way of cooking pilafs in Armenia (and, for good measure, risottos in northern Italy, not that I'm starting a thrash here about the origins of Italian food) to Xinjiang and gently browned the onions, lamb, and raw rice in a combination of oil and butter (lamb tails are rather hard to find around here, I've found to my considerably dismay) before being simmered in a broth; the raisins and carrot are added toward the end so that they get to keep some of their personality.

This is easy and delicious, as well as a happy contemplation on a food that must have traveled a distant, winding path over countless years along ancient caravan routes as traders dined on golden piles of rice in walled oases, fell in love, and brought the recipe home as a treasured souvenir.

Uyghur pilaf 
Zhuāfàn 抓飯 
Xinjiang
Serves 4 to 6 as a side dish 

3 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil

Long grain brown rice

½ medium onion, chopped into ½-inch dice

4 ounces (about ½ cup) lamb, chopped into ½-inch dice (see Tips)

½ teaspoon sea salt

Freshly ground pepper to taste

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 cup raw long-grain rice (see Tips)

Boiling filtered water as needed

½ cup moist golden raisins

1 medium carrot

1. Heat the oil in a wok or large frying pan over medium-high until it starts to shimmer and then add the onion, lamb, salt, and pepper. Lower the heat to medium and fry the onions and lamb until they just start to turn brown on the edges. Scoot the meat and onions up the side of the wok or pan away from the heat.

2. Raise the heat to medium-high, add the butter to the pan, and when it is melted pour in the raw rice. Stir the rice over the heat until it starts to turn golden and smell nutty. Mix the rice with the lamb and onions. Pour in 1 cup boiling water and stir the water into the rice. Lower the heat to medium-low and cook the rice gently uncovered, stirring once in a while and adding more boiling water as needed.

3. While the rice is cooking, rinse the raisins and drain them. Peel the carrot and cut it into thin lengths about the width of the raisins. Then, cut across the carrot strips to make pieces that are about the same size as the raisins.

4. When the rice is almost done, toss in the raisins and carrots so that the carrots are just barely cooked at the same time that the rice is done. Taste and adjust the seasoning, adding more butter if you like. Cover the pan, remove it from the heat, and let it steam from the residual heat for about 10 minutes before you serve hot.

Lamb neck meat

Tips

Any cut of lamb can be used here as long as it is of good quality. Remove any sinews or silver skin so that you are left with only tender morsels.

Vegetarians can, of course, eliminate the lamb and substitute some tasty variety of mushroom cut in ½-inch dice.

Use long grain rice, not short grain, which is too starchy for this dish. I like brown rice here, as it adds an extra level of nuttiness to the pilaf.

The amount of water used varies according to the type of rice used, the heat of the stove, and so forth, so just keep an eye on the pilaf as it cooks and add a bit more boiling water as needed to keep the rice moist and fluffy.