Rice is my vegetative albatross. I’m not talking about the dry, hard pellets of Uncle Ben’s USA or the ‘fragrant’ rice of South East Asia, but the white sticky rice of Japan, Korea and Hawaii. I’ve tried everything; the 4- step plan, the 8-step plan, the aleph-null-step plan, but I inevitably plunge back into the murky depths of cereal addiction.
For those who ascribe to mathematical purity, yes, I’m still working on the aleph-null plan.
Folklore
When the Kachins of northern Myanmar née Burma, were sent forth from the center of the Earth, they were given the seeds of rice and directed to a wondrous country where everything was perfect and where rice grew very well thank you.
In Bali, it is believed that the Lord Vishnu caused the Earth to give birth to rice, and the God Indra taught the people how to raise it. I theorize that the God Fatso taught us to eat it, but I digress.
In China, tradition holds that “the precious things are not pearls and jade but the five grains”, of which rice is first.
According to Shinto belief, the Emperor of Japan is the living embodiment of Ninigo-no-mikoto, the god of the ripened rice plant.
All well and good, but all the Ninigo in the world won’t help the poor wretch found comatose under an overpass, rice bowl cast weakly aside, a set of frayed chopsticks clutched in his withered paw.
I have not descended to that dire state as yet but it’s only a matter of time. Just the other day I caught myself at the breakfast table eating rice and dried seaweed.
We used to have friends of Matt and Stephanie over, and I had to laugh when my kids raved about rice and seaweed. No amount of cajoling could convince the visitors however and they would politely decline, preferring starvation over the consumption of such a dubious food-like material. When I attempted a peace offering of tofu and noodles they quickly became dots on the horizon, accompanied by the faint sound of hurling.
Who knew?
whoisfenton 