A quicker congee, for sick days and lazy weekends

Cure yourself with this brilliant recipe from The Woks of Life cookbook

Last Friday night, in a sickness-induced fugue, I went on the hunt for porridge. I’d arrived the previous evening from Berlin, beat from a 17-hour travel day and the four-day New Year’s celebration preceding it; somewhere over Greenland I had to admit myself I was getting a cold. (I started calling it the “Berghain strain”, but nobody found it funny?) By Friday I had accepted defeat, knowing I’d have to do nothing but rest for a few days, quietly grateful for the forced alone time after a few weeks of high-intensity socializing. Anyways, the upside to being stuck inside always means more time in the kitchen. My mind started drifting to soup, broth, porridge. At the glimmer of the latter, I knew I’d found my weekend’s purpose: I needed congee.

I’ve eaten plenty of congee but past attempts to make it have always been sloppy efforts spurred by leftover rice or empty pantries, without much focus or learning or planning. This time, scrunched up in bed among all my beloved soft fabrics, I dreamed of something equally soft (but edible) and wanted to get it right. So I pulled out the Woks of Life cookbook, which I’ve been wanting to cook from since I got it last fall; every time I see the wontons in chili oil on the cover I sternly remind myself I must make them as soon as possible! Lucky for me and my sore throat the book not only contained a congee recipe, but offered one that I immediately knew would become canon in my little kitchen.

Written by the Leung family (parents Bill and Judy, daughters Kaitlin and Sarah), The Woks of Life is an extension of the blog of the same name they have written since 2013, which I’ve long used as a go-to resource for Chinese (and Chinese-American) recipes. The Leungs’ writing is friendly but sharp, resulting in a classic food blog so engaging I rarely “jump to recipe.” A feat! They offer thorough, inviting instruction, threaded through with a depth of context and knowledge that gives you everything you need—facts, figures, faith, no fluff—to make something confidently.  

To cut down on congee cooking time, the Leungs rinse and then freeze their dry rice; when the water that has infiltrated the rice freezes and expands, it cracks open the grains, which allows them to turn porridge-y more quickly in the pot. (Judy discovered this little hack a few years ago, thanks to a cousin in Shanghai; she often uses it to make a multigrain congee, which requires the extra step of soaking.) Unlike other recipes, which might call for an hour or more of cooking, this congee takes about 25 minutes to cook, most of which is hands-off. “We grew up doing what everyone else does, which is you stand at a pot and very diligently monitor the temperature over the course of a few hours and stir,” Kaitlin told me over the phone. “Which still works, and can be nice as a meditative thing when you have the time. But when you’re able to have the rice ready to go in the freezer—” well, it can change your life. 

yum yum yum yum YUMMMMMM!!!!!!! I’m cured now

The recipe itself is a breeze: take the rice out of the freezer, drop it into a pot with a bunch of water and chicken stock and simmer until it thickens; marinate some sliced chicken while it does; spend 5-10 minutes (I needed 10) stirring vigorously to turn the rice creamy; then add in the chicken and a bunch of julienned ginger, plus some white pepper (don’t skimp), and simmer until the chicken cooks through. The result is a bowl of porridge studded with rich, velvety bits of chicken and slices of ginger, landing at the meeting spot of gentle comfort food and zingy cold-season tonic. 

I remember in the early days of lockdown, when cooking became the only structure of my days: padding once more into the kitchen meant that time was indeed passing; finding a new solution to dinner felt like progress. Similarly, discovering a hot new palliative when you’re sick can be life-changing, especially after a few too many hours of sore-throated bed rest. After about 15 minutes of active work (plus soaking and simmering), I had a bowl of something that both energized and soothed me, and a new trick up my snot-covered sleeve.

For my congee, I used a ginger- and turmeric-heavy stock that I made on Saturday. (I will do the annoying thing here and say that homemade stock will indeed make a tastier dish.) The stock was jiggly with collagen, thanks to the chicken feet I’d added to the pot, a tip I recently picked up from Christina Chaey. I doubled the ginger in the congee recipe as a curative Hail Mary, and it ended up being the perfect amount for my tastes: bold but not bullying. I also added in a handful of leftover poached chicken on top of what the recipe calls for; it was less flavorful than the marinated stuff, but still works in a pinch. The recipe has you velvet your chicken—yes, the Woks of Life has a helpful explainer on that cornstarch-marinating technique here—which makes for a silky texture and outsize flavor in each little bite. 

Congee, at its most basic, can serve as a blank canvas: aside from the scallion/ginger/cilantro/white pepper garnish called for in the recipe¹, I also spooned over a bit of S+B crunchy garlic and chili, mostly because I couldn’t help myself. Estelle told me about a friend who tops their congee with pickled lettuce hearts, and now I’m desperate to seek those out. Kaitlin told me she likes to top hers with pickled bamboo shoots, or a bit of fermented tofu, “a big deal of an ingredient that I don’t think gets enough love.” Yes!!! Congee is expansive in its generosity, offering whatever comfort you seek: bland or bracing, breakfast or dinner, hoovered up in breathless ecstasy or delicately spooned at on a blanket-covered couch. 

Since recovering from said cold, I’ve cooked two more dishes from the Woks of Life book, both of which I’ve already annotated and planned to return to: a no-fail kung pao chicken; and a revelatory sesame-crusted tofu, with a crust so substantial it holds up the next day, a genius recipe if there ever was one. Even better than finding a recipe that offers a bold spark of comfort during January’s doldrums is finding a cookbook that you know you’ll be keeping at the top of the pile. I can’t recommend it enough.

Quick Chicken Congee