BARF ALERT

There’s Nothing Savory About Rice Pilaf

I prefer a plain bowl of Basmati

I don’t mind stir fry or fried rice or a side of Mexican rice with a taco but don’t give me any Rice Pilaf. If you have nothing complementary to put in the rice — serve it to me plain.

There’s too much crap in Rice Pilaf, like chicken broth, spices, nuts, dried fruit, meats, vegetables, and tarantulas. And nobody knows for sure where the hell it came from — Turkey, New Guinea, or Pluto. Or who invented it — Einstein, Solzhenitsyn, or Mo Howard?

I doubt anyone was lucky enough to make Rice Pilaf delicious. Everyone seems to try. It’s like an endless food experiment gone awry, like a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde of Rice Pilaf. Well, I’ve got some news for you. The cooking experiment is a failure. I don’t know anyone who likes it. Give me plain white, brown, wild, or Basmati, and leave out the peas, carrots, and lug nuts. And forget about adding chicken broth or dirty dishrag water. I’d rather have a petri dish full of flesh-eating bacteria.

Pilaf with gefilte fish and matzo balls — yuk!

Jalapeno Pilaf marinated with a side of Menudo— ugh!

Cousin Marcy’s Bloody Mary Pilaf— double ugh!

Aunt Meg’s overcooked Crock Pot Rice Pilaf — gross.

Rice a Roni Pilaf. The San Francisco treat — not!

Rice Pilaf mixed with soggy Golumpki— hit me with a Polish skillet!

People never give up trying to make a tasty Rice Pilaf that doesn’t give people irritable bowel syndrome. They think they can work magic by adding mushrooms, vermicelli, or roasted and salted pigeon droppings. But it tastes like crap, no matter how you cook it. The same is true with fruit cake. When I receive a fruit cake during the holidays, I airmail it directly into the trash. My Terrier takes one sniff of fruit cake or Rice Pilaf, puts his tail between his legs, and goes yelping out of the kitchen.

Whether Rice Pilaf is homemade, store-bought, in a restaurant, or from a food truck — it will never satisfy my hunger and, instead, will give me nightmares.

I once dreamed of a hairy Pilaf with bony legs chasing me. He was fast for a bowl of Pilaf. And as I was running away from him, I kept stepping in a variety of Rice Pilafs that quickly turned into cement. While hopelessly stuck, the hairy Pilaf apprehended me. He force-fed me a bowl of his regurgitation Rice Pilaf. After the first spoonful, I choked and woke up gasping with an unsavory taste in my mouth. A single pea and carrot lie next to me on my pillow.

Even if someone hot like Angelina Jones served this so-called food to me naked, I would refuse to eat it. And no matter what famous chef, dead or alive, cooks it — Julia Child, Wolfgang Punk, or Professor Irwin Corey — it would taste like it came out in the wash.

So, please — ladies with pots-and-pans aprons, men wearing Bermuda shorts with loafers, and seniors with bladder control problems, accept that Rice Pilaf can never be made for human consumption. Don’t even think about making it—and if you decide to serve it to someone — trash it. Or better yet, compost it.

© 2023 Mark Tulin

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