Mushy Rice

Last night I made dinner. And not to toot my own horn, but it's actually pretty rare that I make something that doesn't turn out fairly well. 


Last night was one of those nights.


I'm not sure if I just added too much water, or if my rice cooker (bless its little pot belly) doesn't do well with Trader Joe's Basmati Rice Medley.  Whatever the case, it came out mushy - not unlike oatmeal, or even cream of wheat. So here I was with a rice cooker full of glop that really wasn't...well, it was gross. 


I just couldn't throw it away. All that lovely rice, carrots, onions and orange peal! I hemmed and hawwed for a little bit before suddenly remember one of my grandmother's more delicious, if not altogether healthier, breakfast foods. Fried cream of wheat. I sat there on my bouncy little kitchen stool, intrigued. 


Why not? It's gloppy enough to stick together. It's got a good flavor. So...why not?


I got so excited at the thought that I rushed through the rest of my dinner, burning my tongue on my mushy rice. I love a good experiment in the kitchen! Or anywhere for that matter. So after we washed and put away the dishes, we got down to business. I just had to rescue this poor rice medley - it deserved so much better.


I rolled the rice out into little balls, then pressed them into patties while my sous-chef cut squares of butcher's paper to stack them on. (On a side not, I know I'm very lucky. Some people have to settle for bland pool boys while I get a sexy sous-chef. Be jealous, ladies. Be very jealous.) Anyway, we got everything mashed, smashed, stacked and stashed and called it good. I still wasn't sure about it all, but i figured, fry anything in enough butter and it will taste like heaven! (You know when the Bible talks about the streets of Heaven being paved in gold? I'm not entirely convinced that it's not butter.)


I even had dreams about it.


I got up this morning, doused the pan in butter, carefully placed my precious patties in the pan and waited. And waited. Annnnd waited. 


Finally the moment arrived. I slid the golden rice cakes onto my plate, the crisp edges crackling merrily. 


Oh.


My. 


GOODNESS!


The flavor, the texture, all of it was sublime. 


So there's my tip of the day - if it's terrible, fry it in copious amounts of butter. :)

Edit: I just had a funny thought - I've redeemed my rice! I took something gross and made it into something oh so tasty. And God is doing the same with me. :) I started out pretty gross, and right now I'm not too terribly delicious, but God is currently mashing and reshaping me (I think Paul used the analogy of clay but rice is more applicable to me). Someday, He'll be finished with me and I'll be positively exquisite.

Until that day, I'll be content to be the rice in His hands.