蛋炒飯
Dàn chǎofàn
Yesterday's rice broken up cold and fried hard in a wide pan, so the grains stay separate and toast instead of steaming to paste.
Named from the ingredients as written, including those carried in from sub-recipes. This is not a guarantee — check the labels on what you actually buy, and note that a product’s recipe can change.
Use rice cooked the day before, cooled quickly and kept in the fridge, as the steamed basmati rice in this collection sets out. Rice left standing on the hob overnight is not safe to fry, and reheated rice is reheated once only.
Take the rice out of the fridge and break the clumps up with wet fingers on a plate, until no lump is bigger than a pea.
Do that before the pan goes anywhere near the heat. Cold rice either goes into the pan as separate grains or it goes in as bricks, and bricks do not break up once they are hot and oiled.
Understand why it has to be yesterday's. Rice cooked the same day is soft and full of free water, and it steams and collapses into paste; chilling firms the grains as the starch recrystallises, and firm grains are the only ones that fry.
Beat the eggs with the 1g of fine salt until the colour is even.
Have everything sliced, measured and beside the hob. The whole dish takes four minutes once the pan is hot.
Set a wok or wide frying pan over high heat for 2 minutes, until a drop of water vanishes on contact.
Add 1 tbsp of the oil and swirl it round.
Pour in the eggs, let them set for 10 seconds, then push them into large soft folds for 20-30 seconds and tip them onto a plate while they still look glossy and underdone.
Take them out early. They go back into a very hot pan later, and eggs cooked firm at this stage come out as dry rubber in the finished bowl.
Add the remaining 2 tbsp of oil, then the spring onion whites, the garlic and the ginger.
Toss for 20-30 seconds, until they smell sweet. Aromatics burn in a pan this hot in well under a minute.
Add the rice and spread it across the base of the pan.
Leave it alone for 60-90 seconds, until it starts to sizzle sharply and you hear individual grains popping against the metal.
Toss, press the rice flat again and repeat for 3-4 minutes in total, until the grains are hot right through, separate, and jump loose from the pan instead of dragging behind the spatula.
Add the peas straight from frozen and toss for 1 minute.
Return the egg, breaking it into rough pieces with the edge of the spatula.
Pour the soy sauce down the hot inside wall of the pan rather than into the middle. Most of its water flashes off on the way down; poured onto the rice it wets one patch and leaves it soft and grey.
Toss for 30 seconds, until the colour is even.
Take the pan off the heat and stir through the sesame oil, the white pepper and the spring onion greens.
Serve straight away.
Do not double this in one pan. Two portions is about what a domestic burner can keep above frying temperature, and a doubled batch steams itself soft — cook it twice instead.
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Toasted first, and that is the flavour that separates this from a bowl of rice with things in it — grains that have sat still against hot metal for ninety seconds develop a genuine nutty, slightly scorched note that no amount of stirring produces. Under it, savoury soy that has concentrated rather than diluted, because it went down the hot wall of the pan and most of its water flashed off on the way. The egg is mild and buttery. Ginger and garlic are present as sweetness rather than as themselves. The white pepper is the last flavour to arrive and it is a warm, dry, faintly musty heat rather than a sharp one.
Hot oil and hot metal first, then garlic and ginger going sweet in under thirty seconds. The best smell of the dish comes at the end and is short-lived: toasted sesame oil hitting rice that is off the heat but still hot enough to release it. The soy hitting the pan wall gives one sharp, savoury burst of steam that is gone in seconds.
Dry, separate and loose — a spoon drawn across should scatter grains rather than move a block. Individual grains have a slight resistance from the chill and the frying, closer to al dente than to soft. Against that, egg in tender folds, peas that pop, and raw spring onion greens that stay crisp because they never met the heat.
The most useful cue in the whole recipe is a sound rather than a sight: after 60 to 90 seconds undisturbed, individual grains start popping audibly against the metal, and that is when the rice is toasting rather than warming. Before that there is the hiss of the eggs setting, and after it the rattle of the rice being tossed and the sharp hiss of soy going down the hot wall.
Toast and egg first. Savoury soy fills the middle of the mouthful, and sweetness from the peas and the aromatics sits underneath it. The finish is two slow things arriving together: the sesame oil, which is nutty and lingers, and the white pepper's dry warmth, which builds in the throat across a bowl rather than in a single mouthful. The raw spring onion greens cut across all of it in the mouthfuls they land in.
Straight from the pan, and hot enough that the sesame oil is still volatilising when the bowl reaches the table — which is a matter of seconds rather than minutes. Fried rice loses more by standing than almost anything else in this collection.
Complete on its own, and traditionally part of a table rather than a plate — something saucy alongside is what it is built to sit next to. A clear soup. Chilli oil or black vinegar on the table for people who want it.
Easy to do and impossible to improvise. The whole dish takes four minutes once the pan is hot and there is no point inside those four minutes where you can stop to chop something.
Very cheap, and cheaper still because the main ingredient is something already cooked.
A wok or a wide frying pan that can take real heat, and everything sliced, measured and beside the hob before the pan goes on.
The day after rice was cooked for something else. It is a fifteen-minute meal provided that decision was made yesterday.
None.
The grains should be separate with no clumps anywhere, glossed rather than wet, with the egg in soft folds through it rather than scrambled small. The clearest cue is behaviour rather than colour: properly fried rice jumps loose from the pan instead of dragging behind the spatula.
Every grain hot right through and firm rather than soft, with a faint toasted skin on some of them. The egg should still be tender, which is why it came out of the pan underdone.
This is the one dish here with a real rule attached. Cooked rice left standing at room temperature is the classic vehicle for Bacillus cereus, so rice kept for this has to be cooled fast and refrigerated, not left out overnight, and reheated rice is reheated once only. Rice left standing on the hob overnight is not safe to fry.
Soft and clumped: the rice was fresh, or not broken up cold. Pale and greyish with no toasted flavour: the pan was not hot enough or the rice was never left alone. Rubbery egg: it was cooked through at the first stage. One wet patch: the soy went into the middle rather than down the wall. Burnt aromatics: garlic and ginger burn in a pan this hot in well under a minute and needed to go in later.
The rice is the make-ahead and it is compulsory. Everything else happens in the four minutes.
Eat it the day it is made. This rice has already been cooked once and reheated once.
Not recommended, for the reason above.
Not recommended.
There should not be any, and if there are, they are not for reheating a second time.
Do not double it in one pan. Two portions is about what a domestic burner can keep above frying temperature — cook it twice instead, which takes eight minutes rather than four and works.
Any long-grain rice cooked the day before works; the recipe is written for the steamed basmati in this collection. Tamari for the soy sauce makes it gluten free. Neutral oil is deliberate — the sesame oil is a finishing flavour and burns at frying heat, which is why it goes in off the heat at the end.
Contains cereals containing gluten, eggs, sesame and soya. Dairy free and nut free as written. Vegetarian; without the egg it is a different dish rather than a version of this one.
Nothing specialist. Ground white pepper is worth buying as its own jar rather than substituting black — it is the same berry with the skin removed and fermented rather than sun-dried, and it tastes noticeably different.
This is the cost-saving dish. Its whole purpose is that the expensive part of the work was already done yesterday.
A dish built entirely on not wasting something already cooked, which is about as good as it gets.
Carbohydrate-led with protein from the eggs and a moderate amount of oil. The salt is entirely in the soy sauce.
The difference between good and bad fried rice is decided the day before, and nothing done in the pan can make up for getting that part wrong.
China, with no more specific origin available.
蛋炒饭, dàn chǎo fàn.
dan chow fan, roughly.
Egg fried rice, literally — egg, stir-fried, rice.
Fried rice has no invention and no author, because it is a use for something already cooked rather than a dish somebody thought of. Stir-fried rice is recorded across many centuries of Chinese cooking. Yangzhou fried rice is the best-known named Chinese version and the claim that it originated in that city is itself contested rather than settled.
Eaten across China and East and Southeast Asia in local forms — Yangzhou in China, nasi goreng in Indonesia, khao pad in Thailand, chahan in Japan — and a takeaway staple worldwide. It is one of the small number of dishes that exists independently almost everywhere the staple grain is rice.
Everyday, and specifically the day after. It is leftovers food by design.
Day-old rice, a pan hot enough that the rice is left undisturbed to toast rather than being stirred continuously, and soy poured down the hot wall of the pan rather than onto the food.
Little, except in scale. Restaurant fried rice is cooked one or two portions at a time, because no burner heats a larger quantity fast enough to fry it rather than steam it, and that constraint is the same in a domestic kitchen.
Every rice-eating cuisine has its own: nasi goreng with sweet soy and shallot, khao pad with fish sauce and lime, chahan with dashi seasoning, Yangzhou with prawn and char siu through it. The technique is broadly common and the seasoning is what differs.
Deliberately plain — egg, aromatics and peas rather than a version loaded with meat or seafood, so the technique and the toasted grain are what carry it.
None possible.