Crispy rice in cast iron pot | SAIGON GIAI PHONG NEWSPAPER

SGGP 10/22/2023 09:00

Surfing the internet, I saw a picture of rice cooked in a cast iron pot, a pair of chopsticks placed on one side, a red wood stove with blazing fire, and suddenly I remembered the old days with great nostalgia.

It had been a long time since I had seen a wood stove with such red fire, even the thick cast iron pot and the chopsticks used to stir the rice were missing. Every house had an electric stove or rice cooker. Fast, convenient, and much less laborious. Just measure the rice, wash it, put it in the pot, press the button, and you have delicious rice. Some people argued, but that way there would be no burnt rice to eat. Others pouted and said, if you want burnt rice, wait for the rice to cook for a while, then pull the button down, and it will definitely burn.

I also did as I was told, pulling down the rice cooker button once and then eagerly waiting for the burnt rice. When it was time to eat, I gently scooped the rice and saw the burnt rice gradually peeling off, which made me feel heartbroken, because the lid in the rice cooker was just a plastic lid, so light, but it still peeled off. I thought it was because of the non-stick coating that the burnt rice peeled off easily, which comforted me, but when I gently moved the lid around the pot to take the burnt rice out, I felt a great sense of loss. Because the burnt rice came out in one piece as easily as a game, not to mention the thin burnt rice, when bitten, it was not fragrant, not as delicious as a part of the burnt rice from my childhood.

The burnt rice cooked in the thick cast iron pot back then was definitely not that easy to pry off, not as easy to cook as just pulling down a button. Cooking rice with a wood stove is not easy for young people today, because just lighting the stove, blowing the fire, and watching the fire is already a problem, but back then every child did it quickly. Because every child used to escape the cold, escape the rain by running into the kitchen with their mother, with their grandmother to inhale the warmth of the fire, of the coal, of the fragrant smoke that made their eyes sting, then watch and learn by themselves.

The pot of rice was brought onto the basket, mother used chopsticks to stir it up, then scooped it into each person's bowl. The rice was still in the pot, scraped to the side, then put in a thin spoon to scrape off the burnt rice. The fire was even, the burnt rice would be golden and crispy. Mother skillfully pried the burnt rice up, if scraped skillfully, the burnt rice would be as whole as the pot, but if someone was clumsy or because they were too close to the pot, the burnt rice would crumble, so they had to scrape it off noisily. When it was burnt, mother had to divide it evenly while it was still hot, so the burnt rice would be fragrant and crispy in the mouth. Whoever received the burnt rice had to blow on it, bite it, and exclaim because it was fragrant and delicious. It seemed that the warmth of the stove, the aroma of the hot coals, of the rice, of the red fire had blended into the burnt rice, making them crave it after eating.

The burnt rice of childhood is thick and warm, so every child who grew up by the fire retains in their heart memories and unforgettable memories. Sometimes, when holding a strange burnt rice, the heart suddenly feels absent-minded, remembering the excitement...

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