Being born to an Asian mother, I have many privileges, one being access to rice. A simple grain. Growing up, I learned about myths of rice. They say you gain a pimple for every grain of rice you leave in your bowl. That’s just the beginning. Sticking chopsticks straight in a rice bowl is bad luck (and rude!). So much depends on such a small bowl full of these little gifts of grub.
Moving to college, I had to leave many things behind, including rice. I have no idea how to make rice without a rice cooker and I had no intentions of doing anything otherwise. At home, we typically buy rice imported from Asia. This seemed like a small detail to me when I went to the store to buy rice one day. I saw Asian rice and noticed the price was ridiculously more expensive than a rice I had never had before: Extra long grain rice. Being deprived of rice for almost an entire semester, I foolishly bought it.
Before long, someone cooked the rice. I excitedly broke my chopsticks apart. The day had come. I lustfully looked upon the steaming, towering pyramid of tiny grains and simply couldn’t wait to place a mound in my longing embouchement. I dove my chopsticks just below the peak of the rice (the same point of delicious magnitude as cut watermelon) and felt my appetite choke. The moment I pierced the pyramid, the rice came tumbling down like tiny pieces of Legos falling out of a toy tub. Only two grains of rice remained on my chopsticks! My pals seemed unbothered by it and ate happily.
I grudgingly followed suit. Chewing the dry rice in the front of my mouth, I could not help but think about my teeth chewing tiny little pebbles. Crushed by the disappointment in this rice like the way it crushed my teeth, I advise consumers to beware of the higher price paid by the deceivingly low price of long grain rice.