You would think that after thirty years of trying, I would have learned to cook rice by now. But no, no matter what I do, it always comes out as a sticky, stodgy mess.
On this particular occasion, I was cooking with Turkish pearl rice, which is very different from the basmati we favour back in the UK. But this is no defence, because my attempts there end the exact same way.
When my wife cooks it, it is always fluffy and light. Yet even if I follow her instructions to the letter, I still end up with a sticky lump. It is like Mission Impossible for me.
My parents and children were polite when I served them dinner this evening, but really my cooking is no match for my beloved’s. If I wasn’t too lazy to peel them, I should have cooked potatoes instead.
Still, needs must. At least the kofta and salad were passable, digested with minimal grumbles, benefiting from the tolerance of hungry stomachs. Small mercies.
Last modified: 21 September 2024
