I can’t be doing with fiddly recipes. No one should have to to measure out 5/16th of a cup of flour. I don’t need that in my life. I will mix dry and wet ingredients in separate bowls WHEN I’M DEAD. Also, six tablespoons of water? Seriously? Dude, make that shit a fourth of a cup or whatever. Anything over four and you need to move up a unit, because some of us have shit to do.*
(*Some of us are constipated, and we need to make up for that lost time in the kitchen.)
And while I’m on the subject, let’s talk about proportional recipes. I have a great recipe for marmalade. This recipe is like a brother to me. It works if I have two oranges. It works if I have ten limes. Presumably it works if I have a bucket of imported yuzu, but I haven’t had a chance to check. (Readers are encouraged to send in buckets of yuzu.) It works because it doesn’t fuck around with measurements, it just tells you what you need to know, because it respects your time. “Add enough water to cover the fruit,” it says. “Add equal parts sugar and water.” That is a good recipe. And when is it done? WHEN IT’S JELLY. That’s fucking genius.
No one will ever have just the right amount of leftover rice for a rice pudding. Ever. Cooking more rice specifically for a recipe designed for use with leftover rice is an amateur move of the worst kind. And if you have too much rice, you have leftovers FROM YOUR LEFTOVERS, which is basically the dumbest thing ever. So spare me your “two cups of cooked rice,” recipe writers. How about I cover some rice with some milk and cream, toss in some rosewater and a couple spoons of sugar, and boil the shit out of that baby?
You can measure all you want, haters, but only one of us is eating rice pudding tonight.
BONUS RECIPE: Sei’s Slammin’ Marmalade
(Makes 2 servings, if you divide it in half.)
1. Get some citrus fruit. Could be any kind: what you have on hand, what’s on sale, what you got in that citrus box you ended up buying from the elementary school kids next door because you’re a sucker. Anything. I like limes, but you might not be as refined as me.
2. Slice those babies reeeeeaaaaally thin. I chunk them up, take out the seeds (important!) and then put them through my food processor with the slicer blade on. Makes a lovely thin-cut marmalade. You can do it by hand, but only if you hate your own fingers.
Some people remove the pith (the bitter white part) from the rind (the colored part), then add pectin separately, or soak the pith in a mesh bag for a short time to make the marmalade gel. But we’re not going to do that for two reasons. One: we’re not pussies; we can handle full-strength marmalade (the way God intended it). And two: as previously discussed, we don’t have time for that shit.
3. Put the fruit in a pot and just barely cover it with water. Keep track of how many cups of water you add, because you will add an equal amount of sugar. I usually add it along with the water, but most of the recipes I’ve read add it after everything is boiled for a while. Don’t know that it makes a difference.
4. Simmer the heck out of them.
Your marmalade is done when a blob on a plate cools to a nice, jelly-like consistency. Try to go for a little underdone; overcooked marmalade can get a little tough.
Now nom that shit down!