And in case you're wondering, no, my solution to making cooking easy is not "Go out and buy a different device each week to automate the process." It's just going to be this one, and even this could probably be skipped; several of my friends have insisted that making rice the old-fashioned way isn't really that difficult. But I would never have started down this path were it not for my rice cooker, so if I can nudge just one person in the right direction my mission will be an instant success. There is absolutely no exaggeration when I say that my rice cooker has drastically changed my life.
To use a rice cooker, all you need to do is fill it with rice, then add water. How much water? There's a helpful graph carved into the side of the pot that shows how much water is needed to cook the number of cups of rice you are making. Then you put the lid on, flip the switch, and the pot heats up for about 20-30 minutes until all the water has been absorbed, at which point it automatically switches to stand-by mode and keeps your rice warm indefinitely (it'll stay fresh for at least a few hours). That's all. You don't even have to supervise it. In fact, I once started a pot of rice, left my apartment to go buy a sauce to put on it, and came back to find everything in perfect edible order.
I estimate I've made at least 300 pots of rice with this thing, and I've screwed it up three times. My very first pot, I somehow didn't correctly follow the simple directions I just laid out for you. Another time, I tried to make five different species of rice in the same pot, only to find that an grainy race riot had erupted in my kitchen. The third time... well, that's a story for another day, but I got a little too cocky. Yes, cockier than leaving my apartment while cooking. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, a rice cooker will handle all the logistics of food preparation, leaving you to concentrate on experimenting with flavors. Today's recipe is my pinnacle of the best taste for the least amount of effort.
Start with a bag of white jasmine rice. Jasmine is a staple of Thai cuisine; it's not much different from the rices we as Americans are used to, but it's a little lighter and more fragrant.
Now, we hit on the most important rule of being a Bartender of Food: QUESTION EVERYTHING. For every sensible guideline set forth by generations of chefs for your personal protection, there is a frivolous ultimatum that will do nothing but hold you back. The only way to know the difference is to break every rule at least once to see what you can get away with. You're not going to poison yourself or burn your house down, so just take a chance.
The rule we are breaking is a fundamental assumption found in the user manual of every rice cooker: the insistence that the rice must be boiled in water. Helpful as this suggestion may be, it is unnecessary; water is one of my favorite liquids, but there's no need to use it as a crutch. In Indonesia, rice is boiled in coconut milk, and this tradition is more than reproducible in a rice cooker. So just crack open a can of coconut milk and pour it into the pot. It's okay if the liquid doesn't rise all the way to the desired level; we'll fill it the rest of the way with... okay, maybe water is a crutch here too. Shut up.
Once your rice is finished cooking, sprinkle on some cashews and dice an avocado. Then pull out your secret weapon:
There are a lot of peanut sauces used in eastern cooking, but this one is my favorite; it's a little sweeter than the others, and just spicy enough to enhance the taste without overpowering even the most vehement of blanditarians. It's meant to be used with grilled chicken, either as a marinade or for dipping, but if you QUESTION EVERYTHING, you'll find it does quite well paired up with rice. Along with coconut milk and jasmine rice, you can find it in just about any grocery store with an international section. Do note, however, that different brands of satay peanut sauce can sometimes vary wildly in taste. Taste of Thai is easily my favorite, and it's the closest approximation to what I've had in Thai restaurants. Thai Kitchen and Trader Joe's are both pretty good but they're a little less sweet and thus strike me more as "just another peanut sauce" than something special. Another brand, Dynasty, is noticeably spicier but isn't good enough to stand on its own. It is, however, the cheapest of all of these, and can still be used to good effect in a more complex dish that doesn't focus on it, so it could still be worth a look.
Anyway, I wish I had more fancy cooking instructions and less background information here, but then again, I chose to start with this "recipe" because of how ludicrously easy it is. Open a can, measure a liquid, flip a switch, and open a jar. The cashews and avocado aren't exactly high-maintenance either. So that's five minutes of preparation and less than thirty minutes of unsupervised waiting, to get 4-5 servings of this:
Satay peanut sauce isn't just great here, it's a fantastic thing to keep in your cupboard. If cooking is a battle, this stuff is a nuclear strike; you don't want to rely on it every time, but having it at as backup will sure help you sleep better at night. If you're ever trying to cook with limited supplies or you want to salvage an experiment that didn't live up to your expectations, you can just pour satay on it and watch the problem disappear. In fact, everything I just listed here except for the avocados will survive in a pantry indefinitely, so I am at any given point just one avocado away from making this meal.
All in all, a wonderful tool to have in your repertoire. Until next time, keep mashing foodstuffs together and eating the result.
