Texas Pecan Rice — The Rice That Holds You When the Week Has Been Long

The Christmas lights still up in February because no one has the energy to take them down. A quiet shift Saturday — appendicitis, a fishhook in a thumb, a college student's alcohol. The quiet was the gift.

Lourdes is 75. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one. Joseph and Suki sent photos of the kids this week.

I made arroz caldo Saturday. The rice porridge, the soft food, the dish for the body in transition.

The blog post this week was about kitchen rituals at Anchorage latitudes. It got six hundred comments.

I called Lourdes Sunday night. The call was the call. The call was always the call.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced the Saturday gathering. I will be on lumpia duty. I am always on lumpia duty.

The salmon in the freezer is from August. Joseph's catch. The bag is labeled in his handwriting — "for Grace." I will use it next week.

Lourdes called me twice this week. The first call was about a church event. The second was about a recipe variation she had remembered from her childhood. The remembering was the gift.

I took inventory of the freezer Sunday. The freezer had: twelve quarts of broth, eight pounds of adobo in vacuum bags, six pounds of sinigang base, fourteen lumpia trays at fifty rolls each, three pounds of marinated beef for caldereta, and a small bag of pandan leaves Tita Nening had sent me. The inventory was the proof of preparation. The preparation was the proof of love.

Auntie Norma called Sunday afternoon. She is now seventy-nine. She wanted a recipe. I gave it to her. She wanted to know how my week was. I told her, briefly. She told me about her week. The exchange took eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes was the keeping.

The break room had cake Tuesday. Someone's birthday. We ate the cake. We did not ask whose birthday. The cake was the cake.

I had a long phone call with Dr. Reeves on Wednesday. We talked about pacing and rest and the way the body keeps a log of what it has carried. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The body remembers. The mind forgets. The cooking is the bridge." I wrote the line down. The line is now on a sticky note above the kitchen sink.

I checked email at the kitchen table while the rice cooked. There were one hundred and twenty unread messages. I closed the laptop. The unread can wait.

I cleaned the kitchen Sunday afternoon. I wiped the stove. I scrubbed the sink. I reorganized the spice cabinet. The cleaning was the small reset. The reset was the marker. The marker said: the week is over, the next week begins, the kitchen is ready.

I made coffee at six AM. The coffee was the start. The start was always the same.

I drove home Tuesday evening and the sun set at three forty-five and the highway was already iced at the bridges and the radio was on a station I did not recognize and I did not change it.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

A reader from New Jersey wrote in about her grandmother's adobo, which used pineapple. I had never heard of pineapple in adobo. I tried it. It was strange. It was also good. The strange and the good are not opposites.

I had already made the arroz caldo — the porridge, the soft thing, the dish that asks nothing of the body that is tired. But Sunday I wanted something with a little more texture, a little more presence, something that felt like it had been tended the way Lourdes tends things. This rice — toasted and nutty and carrying warmth in every grain — was the answer. It is the kind of dish Dr. Reeves’s line was written for: the body remembers, the cooking is the bridge, and this rice is the bridge.

Texas Pecan Rice

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups long-grain white rice
• 1/2 cup pecan halves, roughly chopped
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1 small yellow onion, finely diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 3 cups low-sodium chicken broth
• 1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped (optional, for serving)

Instructions

1. Toast the pecans. In a large saucepan or deep skillet over medium heat, add the chopped pecans and toast dry, stirring frequently, for 2—3 minutes until fragrant. Remove and set aside.
2. Sauté the aromatics. Melt butter in the same pan over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring, for 4—5 minutes until softened and translucent. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more.
3. Toast the rice. Add the dry rice to the pan and stir to coat in the butter. Cook for 2—3 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the grains just begin to turn golden and smell nutty.
4. Add the broth. Pour in the chicken broth, add the salt and pepper, and stir to combine. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat.
5. Simmer covered. Reduce heat to low, cover tightly, and cook for 18—20 minutes until the liquid is absorbed and the rice is tender. Do not lift the lid during cooking.
6. Rest and fluff. Remove from heat and let stand, covered, for 5 minutes. Fluff with a fork, then fold in the toasted pecans.
7. Serve. Transfer to a serving bowl and top with fresh parsley if using. Serve warm as a side or a quiet meal on its own.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 310mg