Alright, listen the fuck up. So you want to learn how to make my perfect fried rice? Of course you do. My perfect fried rice is nirvana incarnate. It’s made grown men weep. I once fed it to a Michelin star chef and after three bites he killed himself because his own life’s work had been rendered worthless. Asking someone if they want my fried rice recipe is like asking someone if they want to glimpse the face of God. Who’s going to say no?
But listen up, fuck-o. If you’re going to make my fried rice, you’re going to make it right. There are some things in this life that demand perfection. My fried rice is one of them. My wife was another. Are you my ex-wife? I didn’t fucking think so, because if you are you’d know damn well that while you got the house, I got this recipe. So don’t screw this up. If you do, I will end you. I know what you’re asking. “Seriously? You’d do that over some fried rice?” But the real question is, “Are you willing to find out?”
Let’s fucking do this.
First prepare four cups of rice, then cool the rice overnight. Oh, you thought you’d just fry up some rice on a whim? Fuck you. Did they dismantle the Berlin Wall on a whim? Are you taking this seriously or not?
Fast forward to T-minus 20 minutes from rice consumption. You’d better have your head in the fucking zone, because this is where your preparation pays off. From the moment you woke, at what should have been precisely 6:00 am, you have been thinking about nothing but frying this rice. You have been exercising, you have been meditating, you have been cleaning and cleansing your body, all with a single goal in mind. And now, if your focus was true, you are ready to execute. I don’t want to hear about a single goddamn errand on the day of fried rice. I don’t even want to hear about one on the week of fried rice. If you have time for that shit in your life, you do not have time for my recipe.
Now, start playing Mahler’s Fifth Symphony (see attached appendix for a list of acceptable recordings). I have, after thousands of hours of experimentation, concluded that this is the ideal piece to listen to while preparing and consuming this rice. Don’t like Mahler? Then you don’t like my fried rice, because what you do like is living like a gap-toothed peasant. Next, heat a tablespoon of butter in a skillet. Not margarine in a sauté pan. Butter. Skillet. Don’t fuck me on this.
Scramble two eggs and set them aside. You will have already, of course, read my manifesto Not Cracking Under Pressure: Making Perfect Eggs In Your Imperfect World. Then add another tablespoon of butter, followed by a diced carrot no greater than six inches long and a diced onion no greater than two inches in diameter. Some people say that fried rice is the perfect opportunity to use up whatever vegetables you’ve got sitting around. Those people are God’s mistakes.
When the carrots and onions are as tender as the emotional state this process should have left you in, add your rice and one cup of peas freshly squeezed from pods raised in your garden. You can also use frozen peas, but only if you want me to throw them back in your stupid face.
As the rice browns, stir in one and one-half cloves of garlic. To learn how to perfectly halve a garlic clove, consult my 137 minute instructional video (see attached link). After precisely three minutes and 27 seconds, as measured with International Atomic Time, return the eggs to their rightful place amongst your rice and stir in dashes of soy sauce and oyster sauce. How much is a dash, you ask? You might as well ask the weight of a soul.
Cook for one hour and 43 minutes, then serve immediately. Immediately. And I don’t want to hear shit about leftovers. Leftovers are people whose wives walked out with their children and whose bosses tell them that there’s no longer a place for them at the company. My fried rice is for instant and full consumption, so that, for a fleeting moment, you can know that life’s meaning lies beyond such temporal accomplishments as family and professional acumen. There is truth in this world, and it is my fried rice. Oh, and you can garnish with green onions if you’d like. Some people say that’s too much flavor, but some people can go fuck themselves.