A love letter to congee.
It was a cold morning in February of 2024 in Albuquerque New Mexico, I had a tinder date with a stranger who had invited me over to his house for tea. At first thought it was a strange first date proposal, the thought of showing up at a mans house I didn’t know wasn’t exactly the most alluring, but there was a curiosity around the intimate gesture of inviting a stranger over for tea.
I had my doubts walking up to his door, he answered in his pajamas, honestly I don’t know what else I was expecting at nine in the morning on a Saturday.
A warmth wafted through the door from the fire going in the living room as he greeted me and invited me in. He went to the kitchen to make jasmine tea, and I observed his living room and the many things which caught my eye. I started to understand how inviting someone into your space is possibly the best first date. Where was his furniture from? Who are the little people hanging on his fridge? Where’d he collect his magnets? Did he get this rug from his mom? What stories does this couch have to tell? He hands me my tea and asks if id like honey as I follow him into the kitchen where I’m caught by a lovely smell.
He tells me he’s making congee, at the time I had no idea what congee was, I search his cabinets for honey while he stirs the rice. I take pride in being an observer, call me nosey but I found it appropriate to make myself at home. In the background an album I didn’t recognize but somehow felt familiar was playing. It was New Ancient Strings by Toumani Diabate and Ballaké Sissoko, an album that would inevitably become a vital element of my morning routine to pair with my new favorite breakfast. Back to the kitchen, I was tasked to cut the soft-boiled eggs and scallions while he plated— well, bowled rather, our breakfast of champions. His countertop was scattered with asian condiments and dirty dishes, I forgot about my tea.
We sat on the floor of the living room by the fire with our congee and our tea which was now cold, I didn’t mind.
I found it necessary to take this moment seriously, the fireplace, my legs crossed with my feet tucked underneath, a large spoon and a warm bowl of rice porridge with salmon, bok choy, fish flakes, sesame seeds, soft boiled eggs, furikake— the smell filled my nose and the sounds kora filled my ears and I felt the color in my cheeks as I took that first bite.
I’ve never felt satisfaction in a breakfast quite like congee, my stomach embraced in a meal that felt like a warm hug, not necessarily needing seconds, but not too full either. We ate in dead silence. The occasional pop of sap from the firewood and our spoons scraping our bowls making the conversations for us. Something about congee felt familiar, something about that morning felt familiar, as if it was something my body had experienced before and had been searching for since.
I got up to help clean the kitchen and we looked through his collection of books while we finished our pot of tea before I left a dramatically changed person, somehow. I didn’t see him again, except on my birthday the following weeks later when he made an appearance at my birthday party with a sweet note and a seashell. We weren’t compatible at the end of the day, but ever since, when I wake in the morning to the desires of a warm embrace, I make a bowl of congee and tea.
Congee ~ Madeline’s way:
Jasmine tea
2 Cups dashi fish broth
1 Cup rinsed short grain rice
Bok choy and Other leafy vegetables/ mushrooms
Sesame oil
Meat of choice (I like chicken thighs or fish)
Furikake seasoning
katsuobushi
Pickled onions
Soft boiled marinated eggs
(Marinated in soy sauce, scallions, ginger, garlic)
Laoganma chili crisp
Begin with the rice. Rinse your rice until the water runs mostly clear.
Your base is dashi/fish broth, but jasmine tea acts like a perfume to fill the nose. Brew the tea lightly and replace part of the broth with it for the floral undertones. Two cups of a dashi/fish broth is your anchor; add more tea until the rice is generously submerged.
Bring everything to a gentle boil, then lower to a simmer. Stir occasionally.
Add your meat when the rice reaches transparency.
Chicken thighs: Sear in a separate pan until golden, then poach in the rice to finish.
Fish: add near the end, in soft chunks.
Slice bok choy and whatever other veg you desire and sear them in sesame oil and add them in the last few minutes.
Finish with a thin ribbon of sesame oil at the end. Taste. Adjust with salt or soy if needed.
The altar of toppings are a soft marinated egg, or a fried egg if you don’t have the time for a boiled one, halved so the yolk bleeds, furikake, fish flakes, pickled onions for acid and color, and laoganma for a kick.
enjoy xx