On Cooking Rice
A bowl of perfectly cooked rice is quietly extraordinary... and I think that's because - a bowl of perfectly cooked rice is harder than you might think. If you've had it, you'll know what I mean - it can be one of the most humbling, memorable - yes - even transformative things you'll ever eat. It is most certainly a way of showing love.
In Japan, rice is treated with a level of care and honour that we don't quite have here in Australia. And perhaps that's because here, rice is cheap and plentiful — we can take it for granted in a way the Japanese simply haven't in the past. Also. In Japan, rice is not just food. It is woven into the language itself: the word gohan means both "cooked rice" and "meal." Breakfast is literally "morning rice." Some Japanese people will tell you they don't feel like they've eaten a real meal without it. Even when I as in my 20's many oder women told me that's why their skin was so beautiful, and mine isn't, hahaha.
There's a saying that there are 88 gods in a single grain of rice — and 88 steps in growing it. Children are gently scolded for leaving grains in their bowl. The concept of mottainai — a deep sense of regret over food waste — is so fundamental to Japanese culture that it has shaped the way rice is eaten; there is a history behind this reverence.
For much of Japan's history, rice was not something ordinary people could even eat. Farmers grew it to pay their tax to the warriors and nobility, and ate millet and barley themselves. It wasn't until the 17th century that common people began to have rice as part of their meals. So when the Japanese treat every grain with such care, it is not just spiritual reverence — it is centuries of scarcity, remembered in the body. In saying all of this - now you can gobble down an onigiri from a 7-11, or buy plastic packets to reheat in the microwave (I've lived off of those and they're actualy damn good tbh).
I've been thinking about this a lot lately.. maybe because Jeff and I moved in together - and we are both older and have had a lifetime before this - and it can highlight how you have treated food before then, or until now. Jeff loves my cooking - but it stood out to me how much he loves my rice. And I rely on it quite frankly. We often have meals from the pantry...tinned fish, ferments obviously, varieties of pickles, bonito flakes, sauces - you name it - I love a condiment. But it's the rice that carries the quiet magic. He can't believe rice, on it's own, with a nob of butter or ghee or a sprinkle of sesame - can be so moreish, so delicious. There are times when you realise what you have learnt by living somewhere else. And I think my reverence of rice is one of them for sure.
And I do love working with rice not just feeding my loved ones with it but making koji, turning those both into Sake too. And Mirin.
Now that my daughters are all living away from me - when they come home for a few days, one of the things I always try to make happen is a perfect rice bowl meal. It might be breakfast, a quiet dinner, or a loud lunch with everyone talking over each other — it doesn't really matter. What matters is the rice, and the little tray of condiments on the table. A jar of kimchi here, some pickles there, a spoonful of natto, a bit of sauerkraut — suddenly you have something truly extraordinary. And yes, this is where fermentation steps in and turns a simple bowl into something special.
But before we get to the toppings, let's talk about the rice itself.
The Magic of Good Rice
A well-cooked bowl of rice, finished with a knob of good butter and a drizzle of shoyu — is a beautiful meal in itself. In Japan, this simple combination even has its own name: bata gohan (バタご飯), butter rice. And then there is neko manma (猫まま) — cat rice. Now, neko manma is one of those dishes that doesn't quite hold still. Some say it's rice with butter and shoyu and a handful of katsuoboshi scattered over the top. Others say it's miso soup poured over the rice, with the bonito flakes curling and dancing in the warmth of it. Perhaps it's both. Perhaps it's whatever feels right in the moment — simple, nourishing, and deeply comforting.
There is a beautiful Japanese show called Midnight Diner, set in a tiny Tokyo restaurant that opens at midnight. In the very first episode, a woman arrives. She doesn't announce herself — she simply appears, the way a cat might, slipping in quietly and taking her place. She orders neko manma. She eats. And then she's gone. It's a lovely moment, and I think it says everything about what this dish actually is: something quiet and restorative, made at home, by someone who loves you (yes! even yourself), asked for without fuss. But for it to be good - I think the main ingredient is love.
For years at The Fermentary, our production manager Vara would bring back large quantities of buffalo ghee from his home, and get the rice cooker going for lunch - and we would all be so happy that we had that ghee again. We could smell it if he added it before cooking - and if he didn't we would always add a generous amount to our rice before serving. The ghee gives the rice a richness and nuttiness that transforms the bowl entirely. For a long time after that, I felt I couldn't eat rice any other way. It's interesting, really — in Japan, these small rituals get their own names, their own quiet celebrations. In India, ghee on rice is so fundamental, so deeply woven into the way people eat, that it doesn't need a name at all. It simply is. Rice, dal, ghee, pickle. That's just how it's done.
You can buy gorgeous rice (I love to) but! Rice is one of those ingredients where the quality of the result can also just come down to technique — and once you nail it, you can rely on it. x
What You Need to Know
Like fermentation - cooking good rice is simpler than you think, but just needs a little nuance. Once you understand the basic ratios and the method, you can adapt to any variety with confidence. The two things that matter most are the ratio of water to rice, and a little patience at the end. That's really it. Also - my favourite method would be the Japanese clay pot - and for a crowd a rice cooker. For years I had my trusty Japanese rice cooker, then an Aldi one - which does work wonderfully. For 2 people - it's always going to be the Clay Pot. Maybe one day I'll buy a bigger one.
Before you start cooking, make sure your rice is properly washed and soaked — this makes a significant difference to the final texture. I have a whole blog on washing and soaking rice - please look at this here if you are thinking there's no need. Wash your rice.
Water to Rice Ratios
These are your starting points. Your specific rice, your pot, your stovetop, and even your altitude can all affect cooking, so adjust as you learn what works in your kitchen.
For white rice, short and medium grain varieties like sushi or arborio rice do best with equal parts — one cup of rice to one cup of water. Long grain rice such as jasmine or basmati prefers a little more moisture, so use one cup of rice to one and a quarter cups of water.
Brown rice needs more water and more time. Short grain brown rice works well with one cup of rice to one and three-quarter cups of water, while long grain brown rice does best with a full two cups of water per cup of rice.
Wild rice is the thirstiest of all — use one cup of rice to three cups of water.
The Absorption Method
This is the traditional method used across Asia and the Middle East, and it's the one I'd recommend starting with. The rice simply absorbs all the water as it cooks — no draining, no fussing. This is how I cook rice.
Combine your washed, soaked, and drained rice with the right amount of water in a heavy-bottomed pot with a tight-fitting lid. If you have a gohan-gama — a traditional Japanese clay rice pot with its beautiful double-lid design — this is the perfect use for it.
The inner lid sits snugly inside the outer, trapping the steam in and giving you rice that is fluffy, fragrant, and shiny good. Bring the water to a boil, and once it has been shooting steam from it's little hole on the top for 5 mintues, turn it off. From here, resist the urge to peek. Lifting the lid releases steam and disrupts the whole process. White rice will need about fifteen to twenty minutes, brown rice around thirty to forty-five. This resting time is crucial — the rice continues to steam gently, and the moisture redistributes evenly throughout. Then fluff with a fork and serve.
The Pasta Method
Now, if you're a rice purist, the absorption method is where your heart will live. But we're not rice snobs here, and the pasta method is a perfectly good way to cook rice — especially if arsenic levels are something you're mindful of, which is a completely reasonable concern. This method uses a large amount of excess water — about six cups per cup of rice — and you boil the rice uncovered, almost like pasta, before draining it. It does a significantly better job at reducing arsenic than the absorption method. You'll lose some nutrients in the drained water, but if this is the method that makes you comfortable, then this is the right method for you. Also by the way - this is a great way to get starchy water to turn into beer... or hair rinse etc. See here.
Bring your water to a boil, add the washed rice, and cook uncovered, stirring occasionally. White rice will take about ten to twelve minutes, brown rice around twenty-five to thirty. Taste a grain to check — it should be tender but not mushy. Drain it in a colander, let it steam for a couple of minutes, then return it to the pot, cover, and let it rest for five minutes before serving. The only reason I'd do it this way is for the water.
Rice Cookers
If you eat rice regularly, and you are mostly cooking for more than 2 people - a rice cooker is genuinely worth the investment. It removes all the guesswork entirely. Add your washed and drained rice, fill to the water markings (or use the ratios above), press the button, and walk away. When it switches to warm, let it rest for five to ten minutes before opening. There's a good reason most Asian households have one — it's completely foolproof and frees you up to focus on everything else.
Day-Old Rice
Here's something worth knowing: for fried rice or rice bowls, day-old rice from the fridge is actually better than freshly cooked. When rice is refrigerated, it dries out slightly and the grains separate, which means it fries beautifully without turning mushy. There's also a health benefit — cooling rice creates resistant starch, which acts like fibre in your gut, feeds your beneficial bacteria, and causes a smaller blood sugar spike. And the good news is that the resistant starch remains even when you reheat it.
To prepare it, simply cook your rice as normal, then spread it on a tray to cool completely — this prevents condensation from making it sticky. Transfer to a container and refrigerate for twelve to twenty-four hours. Use it straight from the fridge or reheat — either way, the benefits are there.
A Few Things That Go Wrong (And Why)
If your rice is coming out mushy or gummy, it's usually one of three things: you didn't wash it enough (excess surface starch is the culprit), you used too much water, or you stirred it during cooking, which releases more starch. If it's hard or crunchy, you likely didn't use enough water, the heat was too high and the water evaporated too quickly, or you didn't let it rest after cooking. And if it's sticking to the bottom of the pot, try a heavier-bottomed pot or add just a little more water next time.
Uneven cooking usually comes down to the rice not being washed or soaked properly, or the lid not fitting tightly enough — steam escaping is the enemy here.
Storing Rice
Cooked rice should never sit at room temperature for more than two hours, as bacteria can multiply quickly. Bacteria loves rice. Store it in an airtight container in the fridge for up to three to five days, or portion it into serving sizes and freeze for up to three months. You can reheat directly from frozen, or thaw overnight in the fridge — either works beautifully. When the girls were little I would ball up the rice into a single onigiri style portion and keep in the freezer like that. They could put it in the microwave - and bam - rice ready.
And one more cat, speaking of Neko Manma - and while we're here. In Java, there is a dish called nasi kucing — which also translates to cat rice. But the story behind this one is entirely different. The portions are tiny, just a small mound of rice with a little sambal and some accompaniments. Cat-sized, the Javanese would say. A portion you might set down for a pet. It's usually a street food, bought cheap and eaten simply. That's pretty charming — cats and rice finding each other, lending their name to something small and nourishing and good. I am thinking that also - cats kept the mice away that would eat the rice....so we feed them that to thank them too... is there something in that?
The Rice Bowl and the Ferments
So here's where it all comes together. A bowl of good rice — warm, fluffy, maybe finished with a little butter or ghee and a splash of shoyu — is already a meal. But when you start adding ferments, it becomes something else entirely.
A spoonful of kimchi alongside the rice. A few pickles. Some natto. A soft boiled egg. A little sauerkraut or any kind of lacto-fermented vegetable you have on hand. A tray of small jars and dishes in the middle of the table, and everyone builds their own bowl exactly the way they like it. It's one of the best home meals I know — simple, nourishing, alive with flavour, and full of the kind of good bacteria your gut will thank you for.
Good rice is all about the right ratio, gentle heat, and a little patience. Don't rush it, don't peek, and let it rest. Once you've got your method down, it really does become second nature — and then you can focus on the really fun part: what goes on top.
