Fried rice

HOW TO MAKE FRIED RICE

Fried rice is one of life's great mysteries. No matter how you make it at home, it'll never be as good as the stuff you get from the takeout restaurant down the road. I'm a Chinese guy; I've made fried rice probably thousands of times, and it's still never come out as tasty as the stuff I order. Strange, ain't it. Sadly, you'll never be able to replicate the takeout goodness; you can cry your punk self to sleep every night about this, but you'll still be hungry, so just suck it up and make some damn fried rice.

First up, ingredients. I'm a proponent of the idea that fried rice should be a fridge-cleaning dish; that any leftovers or scraps lying around make the best ingredients; that you should never, ever, ever buy anything specifically for fried rice. So root around in your fridge for some assorted goodies. Vegetables? Obviously don't use things like tomatoes, or potatoes, or friggin' eggplant, but if you have a stalk of celery or half of a wilted onion, take it out. Frozen vegetable mixes of corn and peas and carrots, stuff like that's good to keep on hand for this also. Leftover cooked meats? An extra chicken breast? Pork chop you didn't cook the night of? Bacon? Bacon‽ Grab those too. And while you're at it, grab a few eggs, and some scallions, or some onions, maybe even garlic; something tasty.

I once made fried rice with leftover spiral pasta. It wasn't half bad. Go figure.

Oh, yes, the rice! Perhaps one of the reasons takeout fried rice tastes better is because it's fresh out of the huge rice cooker. Thing is, when I make fried rice at home, it's almost never when I have a fresh pot of rice handy; rather, it's when my rice has been sitting in its pot for a few days at the back of the fridge. Maybe that's the reason. We'll never know. But you need rice, if you haven't figured out that you'll need to use the only named ingredient in the dish's damn name.

Chop everything into a smallish dice. Don't make them huge; you want to cook them quickly, but don't mince them, either. Scramble the eggs. Place everything somewhere where you'll have quick access to them so you don't run around your kitchen while your eggs are burning and your onlookers snicker at your pathetic face.

Then, fire up the largest frying pan you have. Add a little bit of oil, and then scramble your eggs. You should have done this before (hopefully). When the eggs are cooked, add in your scallions, onions, garlic, whatever, and let them cook for a while and smell nice. Remember to add some salt here, too.

Stuff you don't eat raw, including eggs, should always be cooked first before assembling the entire thing. Which means that if you have chicken or bacon or whatever it is that needs cooking, don't expect to be able to mix everything together and have them cook amid a flurry of rice. If you need to cook other things, take your eggs out, keep them on a separate plate or other receptacle, and cook them. Chopped-up chicken pieces? Great. Bacon? Absolutely wonderful. Chop it up bite-sized once it's cooked. Green beans? Carrots? Yeah, they actually do benefit from a bit of a pre-cook. Wild organic haddock bought from a fifth-generation no-preservative Inuit fishery on one of those Alaskan islands that might as well be part of Russia? Get a life. Of course, if you're using chicken you've already cooked, just ignore that step and keep it with your other ingredients.

Once everything that needs cooking is cooked, add some more oil to the pan, then throw all your ready ingredients together. The eggs, the proteins (if you have any), the vegetables (you should have some), any other things. Let them all get cooked and softened and browned and tasty; make sure to add some salt here too. Before you add the rice, though, make sure you add more oil. You want an oil slick at the bottom of that pan; otherwise, the rice will stick to hell and you'll never quite fully get the stupid stuff off. Once your pan's greased to the point that you can physically feel your cholesterol rise, add in the rice. Ideally, you want a 1:1 rice:other things ratio. Break up any chunks of rice with your Stirring Mechanism of Choice, then mix it all up and it should resemble the glorious concoction you know as fried rice.

Add some soy sauce here for the brown color. Add some more salt if you need it. Stir it a little more so you feel better about your sick self. Then plate up and eat. Is it as good as takeout? Of course it isn't! Cry me a river, and let your pathetic, salty tears imbue your fried rice with depth of flavor. Then man up, you little twit, and eat your damn fried rice. It's still delicious, damnit. Enjoy.