It seems to me that the Japanese-engineered simplicity that is the ricemaker would appeal to Alton too. It's a great gadget. An electrified metal sleeve, surrounding a metal liner with a lid. Measure the rice, pour in the rice, measure the water, pour in the water, plug it in, cover it, push the on-button. The Ron-Popeil Fix-It-And-Forget-It school of cooking. It even turns itself off. My ricemaker is small. It's older than Naomi, and I bought it for less than $20 at the PX. It's done yeoman's service. And it's never seemed to fail. Sushi rice is perfect, Basmati rice is perfect, Uncle Ben's is perfect.
The Greek recipe for Rizogalo -- Rice Pudding -- is straightforward. Rice, milk, vanilla, cinnamon, sugar, eggs. Bring the rice and the milk to a boil in a three-quart saucepan.
Oh, the ricemaker. Perfect.
Add the rice, add the milk. The little Devil on my shoulder whispered into my ear: Put the sugar in.
Okay, how easy is this? Cool!
Plug it in, push the button. Oh, hell, yes. The lid was slowly shifting, the liquid was softly simmering. Normal. Before long, the ricemaker started to sound like the washing machine with an unbalanced load. Hmm. If my ricemaker had robot arms and a voice, it would have flailed its limbs and shouted "Danger, Will Robinson!". But I stood there, and watched. It didn't hit me until it started spitting caramel at me. Dulce de leche. Cooking Napalm.
Hot milk + sugar + butter = caramel. Every insurance agent's nightmare. So, I did what any self-respecting cook would do. I lifted the lid to stir the rice. Okay, hot milk and sugar under pressure. The caramel bubbled over the sides of the cooker and onto the counter, onto the floor, onto my shirt, onto my arms. Holy Mother, I have angered the cooking gods. The rice was glued to the bottom of the pan and it was burning.
My family circled the kitchen like buzzards. "Whatcha makin', Ton?"
Oh crap. This is like Ricky asking Lucy what scheme is cooking. They knew something was dying in the kitchen, and it was me. "Uh."
At this point, caramel-coated, all I could do was laugh. Spoons flew out of the drawer. I figured they were going for the eyes. The rice was not cooked. At all. The glop in the pan was sweet, sticky, smoky and crunchy. Good maybe for peanut butter. Not so good for rice pudding. They ate it. And laughed. It's become the family legend. The thing was, they ate it right out of the pan, and blocked my run for the garbage can. Said it was terrible and, like a car wreck you can't stop watching, they kept eating. I suppose it was so they could tell the story at Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the next 40 years of my life. Because it's trotted out for the telling any time rice pudding is mentioned: "Ma, remember ... heh!" Like the time I made Flan. Didn't have enough caramel, so I made more. Had too much. I made more Flan. Didn't have enough caramel ... before long, every dish, cup, bowl in my small Panamanian kitchen was filled with Flan. Yeah. I should have learned to make this stuff when no one was home, and no one would be the wiser. Because even my mom tells the story, third-hand. Eventually the floor was cleaned. The washer took care of my T-shirt. They snickered about my burns. Rightly so. Tiny little blisters and red marks, sticky with caramelized milk and sugar. Someone dialed my brother.
"Ton, did you cook the rice?"
"Well ... yeah, sorta." I told him the story. I didn't need a video phone to see his face.
"Ton, cook the rice first."
"You mean leftover rice?"
"Yeah. Don't cook it in the milk. Use the rice you have, or make it fresh."
"Oh."
"Ton?"
"Yeah."
"That's damn funny."
Rizogalo -- Greek Rice Pudding
1 quart milk
1/3 cup rice
1/4 cup sugar
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla
cinnamon
raisins -- optional
In a three-quart saucepan, bring the milk and rice slowly to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer, stirring until rice is soft (cook the rice in the milk. Okay, I don't do this. I measure a cup of cooked rice and heat it in the milk. Heat the raisins with the milk, at this point.)
Beat eggs, add sugar and beat well. Slowly add the hot milk to the eggs (temper the eggs), stirring. Gradually return the heated eggs to rice mixture in the pot and continue cooking until the mixture coats the back of a spoon. Pour into dessert dishes. Sprinkle with cinnamon. Serves 6.
Panettone Bread Pudding -- Williams Sonoma
1 lb Panettone, cut into 1-inch cubes
5 eggs
3/4 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
2 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
2 cups milk
2 cups heavy cream
6 tsp granulated sugar
Caramel sauce for serving
Preheat an oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 9-by-13-inch baking dish. Spread the cubes onto a large baking sheet and toast in the oven until golden, about 10 to 15 minutes. In a large bowl, whisk together eggs, brown sugar, vanilla and cinnamon. Slowly whisk in cream and milk. Stir in the bread cubes and let stand until they soak up most of the liquid, about 10 minutes. Bake until set (the knife comes out clean), about 45 to 50 minutes. Transfer to a cooling rack and let sit for 5 minutes.
Just before serving, sprinkle the granulated sugar evenly over the bread pudding. Use a kitchen torch to melt the sugar to a golden caramel color. Serve immediately with caramel sauce. Serves 8 to 10.
A caveat: Me and a blow torch, in the kitchen. Uh, no. I've ignited liquor in a pan. I've deep-fried stuff. That's about as much fire as I can handle. To caramelize sugar for Creme Brulee, I put it under the broiler. Much safer for me. ;-)
No comments:
Post a Comment