Italian Rice — The Bowl I Keep Ready for the Ones Who Come Home Tired

Third week. I am beginning, I think, to find a rhythm. Wake at 6. Coffee with Eduardo on the porch if the weather allows. Breakfast. By 8 AM I am somewhere — the hardware store, the bodega, Mami's apartment, the backyard. By 11 AM I am home. I cook something. Eduardo eats it at noon. He naps. I do something else — folding, sorting, writing in the notebook I bought last week.

The notebook has three recipes now. Sofrito. Habichuelas guisadas. Pernil. I have written the basic instructions in English with Spanish names and I have added, in the margins, little notes to the reader. The reader, I realize as I write, is someone like Lucas or Camila at age thirty. The reader is my grandchildren at the age where they are in their own apartments and they want to cook like I cooked. The reader is whoever survives me.

Sofrito took me forty minutes to write. Forty minutes to write a recipe I make in fifteen minutes. You would think the writing would be faster than the making. It was not. I kept stopping to add things. "Your mother will tell you to use less culantro. Do not listen. The culantro is the point." "Do not substitute parsley. It is a different animal." "The amount of garlic is never enough. Add more than you think. Then add two more cloves." This is the marginalia. This is the inheritance.

Sofía came Wednesday. She was on a break between nursing school summer session and her ICE rotation. She looked exhausted. I fed her asopao. She fell asleep on the couch for two hours. I wrote in the notebook. She woke up. She said, "Ma, I think I got the ICE rotation next semester. Hartford Hospital. I am going to work at your hospital." I said, "Mija, it is not my hospital." She said, "Yes, Ma, it is your hospital, and now it is my hospital, and I am going to be a nurse there." I started to cry. I stopped. I said, "Sofía, I am proud of you." She said, "I know, Ma." She hugged me. She ate a piece of bread. She drove home.

Mami on Friday. Sharp. She asked about the notebook. I showed her. She read the sofrito recipe. She said, "Too much cilantro. Not enough culantro." I said, "Mami, I wrote that in the margin." She said, "You did not write it loud enough. Underline it." I underlined it. She said, "Better." She read the pernil recipe. She said, "Where is my mother's adobo?" I said, "Mami, you never wrote it down." She said, "Carmen, write it down now. From memory. The adobo." I got a pencil. She dictated. I wrote. Garlic. Oregano. Salt. Black pepper. A small amount of vinegar. An even smaller amount of orange juice. A splash of olive oil. Five ingredients and two fluids. The adobo I have been using for thirty-five years. Now in my notebook, in my mother's voice, in 2023. Wepa.

The asopao I made for Sofía that Wednesday is not a recipe I can write down in ten minutes — it is a feeling more than a formula, and it will need its own forty minutes in the notebook someday. But the spirit of it is just rice, warmth, and the knowledge that someone walked in your door needing to be fed. This Italian Rice is the version I reach for when the sofrito is already made, the week has been long, and the person sitting at my table just needs a bowl of something honest. It is simple the way all good things are simple: a few ingredients that know what they are doing.

Italian Rice

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups long-grain white rice
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1/2 medium yellow onion, finely diced
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1/2 cup diced tomatoes (fresh or canned)
• 1 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1/2 teaspoon dried basil
• 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
• 3 cups low-sodium chicken broth or vegetable broth
• 1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Instructions

1. Sauté the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a medium saucepan or deep skillet over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 3 to 4 minutes until softened and translucent. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
2. Toast the rice. Add the dry rice to the pan and stir to coat in the oil. Toast for 2 minutes, stirring frequently, until the rice smells slightly nutty and a few grains begin to turn golden at the edges.
3. Add tomatoes and seasoning. Stir in the diced tomatoes, oregano, basil, and red pepper flakes if using. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes, letting the tomatoes soften and release their liquid into the rice.
4. Add broth and simmer. Pour in the broth and add salt and black pepper. Stir once, bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce to a low simmer. Cover tightly and cook for 18 to 20 minutes, until the rice has absorbed the broth and is tender.
5. Rest and finish. Remove from heat and let the rice rest, covered, for 5 minutes. Fluff with a fork. Stir in the Parmesan and top with fresh parsley. Taste and adjust salt as needed before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 48g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 420mg