Everyone Has a Rice Story, Here's Mine

Sixteen years ago, when I started my food blog I wrote: "Though I am no painter, this I know to be true: throw four primary colors onto a palette and mix randomly. Whatever combination you come up with, there will be a Mexican rice that catches the spirit of those tones." Red rice was the first one I cooked. Then green. Then yellow. Then black, simmered in the broth from a pot of beans, still one of the most comforting things I know how to make. 

The white one is the rice I made sure to teach my boys. It is the most humble of the four, and the most generous. It pairs with anything. It rescues any meal. It is a card they can pull out of their sleeve no matter what life puts in front of them. 

And then I wrote a line back then that I did not know I was making a promise on: "And we are not even getting started." Because as I traveled deeper into Mexico for Pati's Mexican Table, the rice world cracked wide open. Arroz con chepil from Oaxaca. Honey habanero rice inspired by my travels in Yucatán. Dirty rice with clams from Sonora. Chile relleno rice from Central Mexico. Each region with its own logic of what rice should be. 

And then came the borderlands. Working on my new cookbook, Foods of La Frontera (join me for a fun live discussion June 4), I found a whole other rice world living in the northern Mexican states and the southern U.S., shaped by movement, by trade, by families crossing back and forth for generations. And from Mexico’s north, I met arroz de boda, wedding rice. Sweet and savory at once, with raisins plumped in orange juice, almonds, carrots, peas, corn, bacon, and chorizo. A rice that shows up for love. I am a hopeless romantic, so of course this one got me. 

The truth is, no matter how many years I am gifted with in this life, I don’t think I’ll get to taste and cook every rice in the Mexican repertoire. There is always another pot somewhere, in a home in Michoacán, in a kitchen in San Antonio, in a comedor I have not yet found. That is what keeps me going. And it is why I love meeting people. Every single one has a rice story, and I want to hear all of them. Speaking of which, this June, I will be in Los Angeles at the Hispanics in Philanthropy conference, joining a panel and spending a few days with people who care deeply about our communities. I am looking forward to what we will talk about. But fair warning to everyone in the room: I am also going to ask you about the rice you make.

Un fuerte abrazo, 

This month, three rice dishes, three moods, from the most showstopping to the most humble.

Every day I read messages you send me by email and on social media. I love hearing from you, and I'm sharing some of the great questions you ask.

Q: Dear Pati, I grew up in Southern California on the Central Coast near Santa Maria in a small town called Nipomo. Now that I have moved away to Minnesota, I miss the many foods and flavors that I grew up with. I hope this isn't too much of a silly question but, can you teach me how to make authentic red Mexican Rice? I just want to make at home the rice I would have eaten when I was a kid. I have no way to contact my old neighbors and I trust you. Can you help me with that? — Edward

A: Edward, Of course, I can help you learn to make authentic Mexican red rice! Funny thing is, I also wanted to learn how to make it out of missing the foods I ate as a kid, when I moved from Mexico City to Dallas after getting married. I didn’t know how to cook much as a newlywed, so I started talking to whoever I could at the local Latin market. One day a woman from Puebla said she’d teach me how to make rice and we made three batches of Mexican red rice together. That is how I learned and I pass on all that knowledge in this video, where you can cook it along with me, and here is the recipe. I’m honored to share it with you, and I hope you’ll make it and let me know how it goes. — Pati