In Praise of The Humble Rice Cooker
If I have to choose one home appliance to take with me, it's the humble rice cooker. A model most basic with only one button to toggle between Cook and Keep Warm, it's something you see gifted to college students as they move away from home. Said kid might possess disastrous level of culinary skill, but the little device would make up for it. You almost can't fuck it up1. My first survived hectic college days across three rentals before short-circuiting in the most showy way possible, bringing the whole building's grid down when I was away for a dinner. My second one, of the exact same model, still stands to this day.
To date, I have made rice of all variants (spiced and flavored and topped), congees, soups and stews in all manners, cheesecake and several kinds of rice cooker bread2, steamed goods, occasional fried foods... Some people seem to be under impression that a rice cooker is a one-trick pony. It's not, what a slander! Even if you have no more energy to turn up elaborate dishes, you can throw everything into the pot and pray. In 40 minutes, you'll have your prize.
I cook my rice on stovetop at times, when I want more control over texture (or let's face it, when I just want to be more involved in the cooking process), but nothing beats prepping everything at night, pressing cook, and waking up to piping hot and fluffy white rice. I work from home, so sometimes I would do my morning meetings while chopping ingredients, go about my day, and they would be ready in time for lunch (with leftover for dinner!).
It's low-maintenance, it's non-intrusive, it's relatively affordable. Reliable, boring. You see it in someone's home, you don't register it as luxury, and yet hot meals are luxurious. Some days are so trying that I would feel like crying as I wash rice grains, so damn near to breaking down over the sink. I might not have much, but when the rice cooker chugs, releasing water vapor along with the comforting aroma of cooked grains, I have the quiet dignity that I have managed to do something in the act of self-care.
The high-end models, with all their bells and whistles, sometimes sing their siren's songs when I browse department store aisles. Temperature control, automatic cooking mode... but the basic model has always been serviceable. The bells and whistles would turn my stalwart cooking companion into another thing to fiddle with, an ostentatious piece in need of attention, a machine I would be afraid to ruin. I think I'm fine with one button.
Now, if only I can find inner pots that aren't teflon-coated...
One ill-advised attempt at making jelly caused the rice cooker to smell vaguely like artificial grapes for days, then decaying into sickly rank fruits as it rotted in crevices I couldn't reach. Deep cleaning the whole thing with warm water and boiling baking soda solution in it finally solved it, but it scarred me forever.↩
Do not skimp on butter or things will stick to the sides and burn.↩