Food Fights

Long-simmering controversies about cooking.

There are four basic techniques for cooking rice. You can make it in an electric rice cooker, a great convenience for a busy cook, and a good way to free up burner space on the stove if you are making a complicated meal. Rice cookers turn out a consistent product (white or brown rice), and most of them have a "hold" switch to keep cooked rice warm. On the down side, it’s one more appliance to wash and shelve, and you lose some control over the final consistency of the rice.

The second way to cook rice is the one you’ll most often find printed on bags or boxes of rice: steaming rice in a measured amount of water in a covered pan. This method works best with converted rice (either white or brown), using a ratio of 1 cup rice to 2-1/2 cups water. Don’t peek or stir while the rice is cooking (too much stirring bruises the grains and releases sticky starch). Toss lightly with a fork before serving.

The third way to cook rice is "pilaf style," in which rice is first cooked in oil or butter until the grains are opaque; then the liquid is added, the rice is stirred once, and the cooking is completed in a covered pan at a low simmer for about 20 minutes. This method is more laborious, but it produces tender yet separate cooked grains. And it smells wonderful.

The fourth method is probably used least by cooks, yet cooking expert James Beard insisted it is the best, especially when using Carolina and other long-grain rice. In this Oriental method, a large quantity of water is brought to a boil—about 4 quarts of water plus 2 tablespoon salt in a 6-quart pot. Add about 1-1/2 cups of rice to the rapidly boiling water, a handful at a time to maintain the boil. Cook the rice for exactly 15 minutes, uncovered, then drain through a sieve. This makes fluffy, firm rice.

Do you have strong feelings about rice cookery? Or closely held opinions about other food controversies? Please write to us at foodfight@digitalheart.com.

Last Bite

Homemade Vanilla Extract

Every winter about this time I order a packet of 15 vanilla beans from Penzeys Spices in Wisconsin (www.penzeys.com). I also replenish other flavorings, spices, and herbs that were depleted by all the cooking and baking we did over the holidays. When the box from Penzeys arrives, we open it with great anticipation, unwrapping each fragrant packet to find Chinese ginger, Indian cardamom, some cinnamon from Ceylon, perhaps some coriander from Morocco. Whole nutmegs and cloves from the East Indies, peppercorns from Sarawak in Borneo. And finally, at the bottom of the box, a plastic envelope holding 15 precious vanilla beans from Madagascar. Long, thin, dark brown, pliable, and oily, the beans are the seed pods of a fragrant climbing orchid, Vanilla fragrans, that is native to Mexico, where the ancient Aztecs used it to flavor chocolate. A long and laborious process of drying and curing the seed pods in the tropics creates the intensely sweet and aromatic vanilla beans perfuming my New England kitchen.

Of the 15 beans, I keep out two or three to have on hand for making vanilla sugar or ice cream, and use the rest to make my own vanilla extract. I carefully slice through each bean the long way so that the tiny seeds inside will be released. I place the beans in a clean quart jar and cover them with either vodka or good brandy. I tighten the lid and place the jar in the pantry. I give it a swirl when I think of it. In about 4 months, after the alcohol and vanilla have mingled, I will have nearly a quart of intensely flavored vanilla extract to use and to give to friends. It will last until this time next year.