Guatamalan Coconut Rice
When Sid was a baby, he and I both had a Guatemalan nanny that looked after us named, Elvie. Elvie was a badass who grew up during a time of Civil War in her country. She eventually fled to America, only to smuggle herself back in to the country months later in order to retrieve her sister’s children. I loved having a vigilante, freedom fighter living with me. I felt so safe and protected. Not only was Elvie a force to be reckoned with at Bleecker park, and a tough broad who never shamed me for wanting to continue my career, she was also an extraordinary cook.
To this day, I’ve never seen someone cut a mango like Elvie. I wouldn’t even call what she did cutting. She skillfully carved it, leaving behind a bowl filled with vibrant, sticky goodness. Elvie got me hooked on homemade papusas, vinegary cabbage salads, and, of course, her irresistibly delicate coconut rice.
Elvie served her rice with chicken or black beans, but I’ve always argued that this fragrant dish, filled with cardamom and cinnamon, makes an insane morning porridge. (I’d add almonds and dried currents.)
Rice on its own can be such an unfortunate blood sugar bomb. This adds a bit of fat to help slow things down.
When I did my cookbook, Dictator Lunches, I tested every coconut rice recipe I could find. For me, Elvie’s still reigned supreme.
It’s creamy and comforting, with just the right amount of spice. It’s a dish that I hope my kids will pass down to their children.
There are so many women whose work goes unseen—who have given up everything so that their children may know a life free from abuse, suffering, and poverty. This rice, on its own, speaks for itself. But what it represents for me is survival, perseverance, and the ability to maintain softness and vulnerability even after the world has tried to make you hard.
Serve it with salmon, chicken, beans, or just a side of guacamole and hot sauce, and enjoy!