Dalai Mama Dishes

by Catherine Newman

Catherine Newman cooks for the family

Dalai Mama Dishes

Catherine Newman cooks for the family

Back to Blog Main Page

Mexican Rice

Posted March 14, 2011
Find more about rice , pilaf , whole grains , side dish
9  | 
I found this helpful Thank You! Your vote will be tallied soon!

The brown-rice version. My 98-year-old uncle died last year, and my inheritance was a tremendous set of Le Creuset cookware.

The white-rice version is much more photogenic, but this is the one-and-only picture I'm going to show you, because I really want to encourage you to experiment with whole grains.

Still Life with Daffodils

Everything but the rice and oil goes right into the blender.

Here's the rice, frying nicely.

The boiling stage.

And done.

Our dinner. I love this picture: this is how we eat most of the time, and it appeals to me in its simplicity. I also made a quick coleslaw with shredded cabbage, lime juice and zest, minced pickled jalapenos, soy sauce, and mayo, and it was fantastic.

Ben.

And Birdy with her empty bowl. Please note that I am not going on and on about either the spring light or the kids' fevers, which is not like me, I know.

In the past week, we've twice surrounded ourselves with college students in order to gorge ourselves on buffalo chicken wings at the local chicken-wing bar. The first time it was because we'd heard they had great wings, and the second time it was because indeed they *had* had great wings the first time. They are crispy and saucy and finger-lickingly insane. If you're the kids, you mostly stick with the honey-barbecue strips ("Boneless wings?" Ben said, and flapped his arms around limply.) If you're me you chew the spicy meat from the bones, you glug from your beer glass, you dunk the wings in blue cheese dressing that has somehow taken all the butterfat in the world and sucked it magically into a single ramekin. If you're me, you also fill with nostalgia for the first buffalo chicken wings you ever ate and loved, twenty-one years ago at Culpepper's in Saint Louis, the hometown of the boy you had fallen in love with.

Which is a funny coincidence, since another dinner this week also produced a weepy flood of nostalgia, given that we'd been invited by some college kids to share a meal at the very vegetarian co-op, a half-mile from our house, where Michael and I first met twenty-one years ago. We sat at the long table eating our seitan-filled Satan Pot Pie and looking at the young people look at us like we were the stars of a cautionary film about aging. We smelled the achingly familiar bean-incense-fruity-shampoo smell of the house; we talked about the olden days; we reminisced privately about how we used to come to dinner late and flushed, our hair a mess of tangles; we showed the kids the room where we'd practiced conceiving them. "I don't think I've eaten seitan pot pie since we lived there ourselves!" Michael said on the walk home. "And actually, maybe I'm just remembering the tofu stroganoff." Maybe.

"Did you eat Mexican Rice?" you're wondering--and I'm getting to that, I swear. What I'm trying to say, though, is that the way we approach food is not entirely one thing or another. I cook nourishing meals from organic vegetables and whole grains and naturally raised meats--and this is how we eat around 85% of the time. But then there are the chicken wings, the ordered-in pizza, the occasional Pringles. It's the sublime to the ridiculous and everything in between, and I don't wish it were different. But sometimes I wrestle a little--and that's where the Mexican Rice comes in. You see, if I'm going to eat buffalo chicken wings, they are what they are and I'm really not going to worry about ordering the "lite" style or whatever. But if I'm making a dish at home that is not intended to be decadent--i.e. not spinach dip or brownies--then I'm inclined to make it as nutrient dense as I can, which is why I almost never cook with white rice or white pasta anymore, given that the whole-grain options have so much more to offer.

And so I have worked and worked on this Mexican Rice recipe--a dish I've been making with white rice for years and years--to convert it to a brown-rice version that would be even better than the original. And I have not quite done that--even though it is still completely delicious. "It's just not quite as. . . " Michael said, forking it up. "I mean, it's great, and I've eaten, like, fifty bowls of it already, but it's..." "I know," said Ben. "It's still better than almost anything else, but it's not quite as... something. Ooph, I've had enough." He pushed his plate away, and then pulled it back in and said, "Actually, I think I'll have a little more." Birdy ate bowl after bowl and claimed not to notice the difference.

So I'm going to offer you the two versions, and you can decide. The brown-rice version gives me a righteous I-can't-believe-something-this-good-is-actually-wholesome feeling, and I actually think it tastes better--but the grains are less distinct and the texture is a little tougher to get right (*cough* mushy *cough*) and it requires a little more finessing. The white-rice version has less to boast about, nutrient-wise, but it's a stunning example of the magic of the pilaf (cue Edith Pilaf singing about rice): each grain toothsome and glisteningly distinct, savory and tomato-sweet. Serve either of them with beans and cheese, or roll it all up in tortillas, and everyone will be thrilled.

Mexican Rice
Serves 6
Active time: 15 minutes; total time 1 hour +

This is the love-child of a Diana Kennedy recipe and a Rick Bayless recipe, and I love that it gets finished in the oven so you don't have to worry about burning it. The brown rice version is a little tricky, in terms of getting the liquid right, as different rices will do different things. If at 45 minutes it is not cooked and already seems dry, stir in another half cup of broth before returning it to the oven.

2 cups canned tomatoes (my favorite thing to use is Hunt's sauce, but plain old diced, crushed, or whole tomatoes work fine too--just don't use a very seasoned sauce or one that is Italianly flecked with oregano or anything; homemade salsa would work great, though)
1/2 an onion, coarsely chopped
2 garlic cloves, peeled
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt (or half as much table salt)
1 scant tablespoon pickled jalapenos (optional)
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 cups long-grain brown rice
2 1/2 cups chicken broth (or water--but broth is tastier!)

Heat the oven to 350.

Put the tomatoes, onion, garlic, salt, and optional jalapenos in a blender, puree, and set aside.

Heat the oil over medium heat in an oven-proof pot with a tight-fitting lid. Add the rice and fry, stirring, until the rice gets nice and toasty looking and smelling, around 5 minutes.

Add the tomato mixture to the pot--it will sputter and sear--and cook another 2 or 3 minutes, stirring, until it reduces a bit.

Add the broth to the pot, bring it to a boil, and boil, stirring frequently, for 5 minutes.

Put the lid on the pot, pop it into the oven, and leave it there for 45 minutes. Now check on it: there will be a dimpled layer of tomato at the top, but when you fluff the rice with a fork and taste it, it should be just about done. If it is, take it out of the oven and leave it covered for 10 minutes to steam a bit more; if it's not, pop it back in the oven to cook and check it again at 5, 10, or 15 minutes depending on how not-done it was when you checked; when it's done, take it out and leave it covered for 10 minutes.

Fluff the rice with a fork and serve.

White rice variation:
To make this with white rice (I use Uncle Ben's but I can't remember why--maybe just to exaggerate the absence of nutrients?), proceed as directed, but reduce the broth to 1 1/2 cups, and omit the initial five minute boil: simply bring it all to a simmer and stir it, then cover the pot and pop it in the oven. Check it at 25 minutes, at which point it will likely be ready to come out and steam for 10.

Member Comments On...

Mexican Rice

Back to Main Blog Page
Search Recipes
300x250

About Catherine Newman

Catherine Newman is the author of the memoir, Waiting for Birdy: A Year of Frantic Tedium, Neurotic Angst, and the Wild Magic of Growing a Family, available online and in bookstores nationwide.

View My Profile View My Guestbook
March 2011
February 2011
January 2011
December 2010
November 2010
October 2010
September 2010
August 2010
July 2010
June 2010
May 2010
April 2010
March 2010
February 2010
January 2010
December 2009
November 2009
October 2009
September 2009
August 2009
July 2009
June 2009
May 2009
April 2009
March 2009
February 2009
January 2009
December 2008
November 2008
October 2008
September 2008
August 2008
July 2008
June 2008
May 2008
April 2008
March 2008
February 2008
January 2008
December 2007
November 2007
October 2007
September 2007
August 2007
August 2006
300x250
728x90
Please log in ...
Close
You must be logged in to use this feature.
Become a member

Thank You!

Thank you for helping us maintain a friendly, high quality community at Family.com. This comment will be reviewed by a community moderator.

Flag as Not Acceptable?

We review flagged content and enforce our Terms of Use, in which content must never be:

See full Terms of Use.