I have a dream that one day I will be able to make rice without burning it. I have a dream that one day I will set on my intention of eating fried rice and rise triumphant from my endeavor. The rice will be delicious, fluffy, and most all, not hard and burned. I have a dream.
I dream that I will no longer meet this familiar failure each time I attempt to make rice, that I will no longer face this piteous defeat and bear others’ bewilderment at my lack in this fundamental cooking skill. I have a dream that my children will one day tell me, “Mom, this is the BEST rice I have ever had in my life!” I have a dream that my children will want me to make rice every night of week because of its perfectly cooked texture and sensational taste.
I know not how long I must tarry in this cycle of scrubbing burned rice off my pans, but I have had a dream about how delicious my rice could be.
I have a dream.