My Cooking Achilles Heel…Rice…

I think every family has stories that inevitably come up at least once at major (and some minor) holidays. For my family, it includes stories about when the furnace broke while my parents were out of town, when Sam ordered the Kobe beef, when our Dodge Omni started on fire, and when I burned the rice.

Yep…I get the rice story. It’s not a glamorous story by any means, but it does come up all the time. I was in Junior High, home with my sisters, when I decided to help my parents out by starting the rice for dinner. Such good intentions…gone horribly wrong…

There are varying accounts of what happened next, but basically, after the water started boiling, I dumped in the rice, put the lid on, and forgot to turn the burner down to low. Twenty minutes go by…maybe less…I’m watching a movie and not paying attention to the rice. Kristin comes and kindly informs me that something is going on in the kitchen. I run into the slightly smelly kitchen, lift the lid on the pot, and smoke pours out. Yikes. Then, I do the first thing that pops into my 13 year old head…I toss the pot onto the counter.

Not the best move for a kitchen with laminated countertops…the next thing I hear is a loud “POP”! I thought maybe the rice was exploding, not realizing that the sound was the countertop splitting from the heat. So, I took the pot, flung it into the sink where it should have been in the first place, and turned on the water. I was just examining the layer of blackened rice on the bottom of the pot and the gaping hole in the countertop when the door opens and (cue ominous music) my parents walk in.

The details get a little hazy after that. I don’t remember if I got in trouble or what we had for dinner that night or if I ever finished watching the movie…but regardless, it is a story that has been retold countless times, sometimes with great detail and other times it is consolidated to simply “remember when Rachel burned the rice?”.

The strange thing is that ever since that point back in junior high, I have had issues with rice. I usually make Minute Rice, because if I make regular rice, I almost always goof it up. Seriously! I burned a pot of rice last week, because I once again forgot to turn the burner down while it was cooking. I couldn’t believe it. It is like my “cooking Achilles heel”.

Do I have a mental hiccup because of that experience? Or is it because of the family story telling sessions? Maybe it is simply a coincidence? I guess it doesn’t matter, but don’t plan on eating rice if you come to my house for dinner…I just can’t chance ruining another pot…or another countertop!