RICE PORRIDGE AS GOOD AS MOM'S

The other day while having a snack in Chinatown I surreptitiously listened in on the conversation between the woman behind the counter and a gentleman having lunch. To fill up and finish off his meal, he had a small bowl of jook.
Which, he averred, was really excellent jook, why, it was better than what his mother made!

Given that the people that own the place are Toishanese, and the young gentleman was from Hong Kong, the common language between them was proper city Cantonese - not the thick dialect spoken out in the countryside, nor that slurry patois many youngsters affect, which is nearly impossible to understand due to slang, elided words, and unclear elocution.
It was a pleasure to hear them.

Especially as they were talking about jook.

Which is, properly speaking, both thick and slurry.


粥

Jook, also called congee, is rice porridge. It is simple, but properly prepared, very satisfying. The casual approach to making it just does not work.
I can understand why the customer said that it was better than what his mom produced. Many home-cooks simply use the left-over rice from the previous meal, or worse yet combine the remaining rice from two or three meals, and dump in all manner of chicken scraps, then set the pot to simmer for a few hours before fishing out whatever bones were included in there.
That cannot possibly yield a decent rice porridge.
Jook is not a cocktail of left-overs.
Make it for its own sake.


For each generous serving (big bowl) measure out a quarter cup of rice.
To make jook on the thinnish side of medium, use a ratio of one part rice to eleven or twelve parts liquid.
Less liquid will make it thicker, but more likely to scorch if not attended.
And rather than using stock from the very beginning, parboil it first in just water. Rice cooks better that way.

Rinse the rice thoroughly, put it in a heavy pot on high with water to cover, and cook till the grains have swollen and look like roiling clouds.
Then place a heat diffuser between the bottom of the vessel and the flame, add clear stock, and turn the heat low.
Stir regularly to prevent the rice from sticking to the bottom and burning.
The idea is to let the it cook till the grains have partially fallen apart and the porridge is smooth.
It will take a few hours.

Whatever else you are going to add should be added near the end.
While some combinations are traditional - pork slivers and preserved egg or dried oysters, for instance - there is no law that you have to do what is typical. Put in whatever you please, as long as it isn't too strong or messy.
Chunks of roasted chicken or duck are also appropriate, as is liver.
Fried onions, garlic, or chilipaste aren't, however, unless you're from one of "those" places.

Thinly sliced meat or fish can mixed into the bowl just before serving - jook retains heat extremely well, so you will have to wait a few minutes before eating in any case. The meat or fish will be perfectly cooked.

Garnish with a few drops of oil, preferably sesame (but chicken or duck fat also works), some thinly slivered ginger, and minced scallion or chive. Cilantro is good too.

[As a complete note of heresy, I often add a spoonful of finely grated carrot an hour before it's done, which gives a faint sweetness and a warm hue to the soup. But if you wanted to have a gefilte fish lump in there, it might be better to put the grated carrot in at the same time so that it softens instead of falling apart, for visual appeal. You can also add sliced mushroom.]


In places like Taiwan many people think of jook as breakfast food, because it's so easy to digest. Then they up the ante by serving it with a fried dough stick, just so that the stomach will have to struggle never-the-less, and dump fried peanuts and frazzled animal protein into their bowls. Given that they probably made congee by setting left-over rice in a claypot on the stove to become sludge overnight, dolling it up so fiendishly can only improve it.
But it doesn't seem right.
Jook is something you have for lunch, or an easy supper if you aren't up to a full meal, or even late at night after carousing and over-much drinking with friends.
And it should be properly made.


後感

Whenever I cook I usually prepare too much food. Some will go to waste.
I am not used to cooking minute quantities.
My roommate is seldom around, so I tend to eat alone nowadays, if I eat.
She prefers breakfast and lunch, I am a dinner person.
Both of us eat less than we used to.

When she comes home, however, she may want a little something to snack upon.
And if she sees a pot of jook she will always ask if she can have some.
There's a hopefulness to her voice at that point. It's very cute.

Jook comforts, and appeals to something deep within.


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