Takeout Rice: So Nice to Use It Twice

I just needed to venture beyond a nonstick saute pan. Once I started delving into Young's paean to the wok, it was clear I should make the leap in that direction.

What an easy leap it was. I bought a Joyce Chen 14-inch, flat-bottomed carbon-steel number that turned as slick as glass once I seasoned it. Although things wouldn't exactly stick to my Swiss Diamond saute pan, they didn't come close to sliding around like skaters on ice the way they do in the wok. Where has this thing been all my life? After only two weeks, its insides already are burnished to a mahogany sheen, requiring less and less oil the more use it gets. I feel like an old pro, especially since I bought a wok spatula, a spadelike device that lets me simultaneously scoop and turn ingredients.

Young, a freelance writer based in New York, also often defaults to fried rice, which she calls "the quintessential Chinese one-pot meal," when cooking for herself.

"I'm not fond of sandwiches, so I often make fried rice as a quick lunch," she writes in an e-mail. "It's satisfying, and I prefer meals that add a variety of vegetables to my diet." Traditional fried-rice recipes often call for two cups of rice per serving, but Young's impulse matches mine: She uses about a cup of whatever vegetables are on hand and about a cup of rice.

It's not just a good use for the leftover grains: It can't be made any other way. If you try to fry fresh rice, the moistness means "it turns into a sticky mess," as Young points out. If the leftover rice is too cold or hardened from the fridge, she adds a little extra time to that part of her stir-fry, making sure the grains get heated through.

Duguid says she often fries rice when her husband is away, using leftover Thai jasmine rice that they, like Young, always seem to have around. "Even if we are doing takeout, we usually make our own rice," she told me by e-mail from Toronto. "It's ready in the same time as the takeout."

Although my new wok is certainly big enough to make dinner for two or more, it's even better for my solo cooking; I have that much more room to scoop, turn and toss without any of the ingredients jumping out.

Now if only I had better ventilation. The key to wok cooking is getting the thing smoking hot, and that has its consequences. I'm loving the ability to make something for myself in a matter of minutes that doesn't produce further leftovers, but until the weather cools off enough to let me open a window or two, I have to get used to eating my fried rice amid a light, air-conditioned haze.

Anything that so effectively soothes my hangry mood, though, is worth it.