Thanksgiving Anxiety Over Getting it Right—The Way Mom Would Make It

Carolyn Jung is the creator of the blog, FoodGal.com, and wrote this piece on Thanksgiving traditions for Los Altos Patch.

For most home cooks, there's always at least one dish at Thanksgiving that spurs more stress than any others. For some, it's the cranberry sauce (will it gel in time or not?); for others, it's the bird, itself (dry meat, anyone?). For me, that dish has always been the traditional Chinese "sticky rice.''

This savory dish of glutinous rice studded with salty dried shrimp, slices of fatty Chinese sausage, earthy shiitakes and crunchy bits of water chestnuts—cooked inside the turkey or separately in a rice cooker—has always graced my family's Thanksgiving table.

My late Mom always made it. Even if we were invited over to a relative's home for Thanksgiving, my Mom was always asked to bring a big batch of her sticky rice.

It's not a difficult dish to make. But it does take some practice to get it just right. Even as a child, I remember my Mom growing anxious about the outcome of the sticky rice as she tended to it. It was always made in the big rice cooker, not the smaller one we used for everyday meals. She'd peer into the rice cooker now and then to stir the contents or to monitor its progress. She'd frown if it wasn't cooking as fast as it should. She'd sigh if it started sticking to the bottom of the pot.

Who knew rice could be this nerve-wracking?

Surely not I, when I grew old enough to host my own family Thanksgivings, complete with my own version of sticky rice. Each year, as I brought the steaming casserole of rice to the table, I'd watch with trepidation for my Mom to take the first forkful. She was never shy about letting me know just what she thought of it, too.

My husband even started turning it into a game. Every Thanksgiving, he'd wait for the moment to ask her, "So, is the sticky rice as good as yours?'' And we'd all wait with anticipation for her answer.

"Not enough soy sauce,'' she said once.

"Too mushy,'' she said another time.

Then there was the year I thought I'd be clever and use black rice instead. I don't think I've ever seen my Mom look so horrified. Needless to say, I never made that version again.

No matter how the rice turned out, my Mom always ate it heartily, just the same. It was in that way that we all came to realize the universal truth: No dish ever tastes quite as wonderful as when our mothers make it. It's that special mix of love, care and remembrance that makes it inimitable.

Even though I can no longer share my Thanksgivings with my Mom, I still make the sticky rice. I use a recipe that I've managed to perfect after many attempts. It's similar to my Mom's, but with a few more flourishes.

In a nod to tradition, I make my sticky rice in the large rice cooker that my Mom once used. I soak the dried shrimp and the dried shiitake mushrooms until they are rehydrated. Then I chop them up and sauté them in a wok with roasted, peeled chestnuts; water chestnuts; slivered green onions; Chinese sausages; ginger; oyster sauce; sesame oil; and a splash of mirin (Japanese rice wine).

I soak a combination of jasmine rice (medium grain) and Chinese sweet rice (short grain) in chicken broth seasoned with oyster sauce, dark soy sauce and sesame oil for an hour in the rice cooker bowl. When I'm ready to start cooking, I add the sausage mixture to the rice, then turn on the machine.

As I watch the steam rising from the pot and smell the fragrant ingredients cooking, I feel my Mom's presence. And I know she's pleased that this iconic family dish still graces our table every Thanksgiving.

For the recipe for my Thanksgiving sticky rice, please go to this page on my FoodGal blog: 

Now that I've shared my favorite Thanksgiving dish, I invite you to tell me about the one dish you just have to have on that holiday and why it's special to you. You can share in the comments box below.

Carolyn Jung is an award-winning food and wine writer based in Silicon Valley. She is the recipient of a James Beard award for feature writing about restaurants/chefs.