Sense and Sensibility
Self-Knowledge and the Rice Cooker
Sense and Sensibility is a great title for a great book. The phrase is a brilliant description of two sides of human nature. Some people are governed by rules and logic. Others by intuition and emotion. You like to bake? With well-defined parameters, set times and clear definitions—that’s Sense. Prefer to grill? The fire, the visual instinct, hearing yourself say, This looks done to me—that’s Sensibility. It’s good to know which strain runs stronger in your temperament.
All of which is to say: I just used my rice cooker for the first time. This rice cooker, most certainly, represents Sense. I first met this appliance a year ago, it was a birthday gift. Since then I’ve thought about it often and used it not at all. The object itself projects an impressive, impersonal authority, like something from a Kubrick film. There are clear protocols and the rules feel slightly oppressive—as a grill enthusiast (albeit an amateur one), I’m not used to doing things in a linear, precise way. Maybe the rules make me afraid of making a clearly documented mistake.
For months the rice-cooker sat in the kitchen beneath the instruction manual. I was unable to submit to the required order. But since I’ve been back from Japan, I couldn’t stop thinking about rice. Whether it’s in a flawless sushi shop or a onigiri from 7-11, I love Japanese rice. Sometimes you want to enjoy these things in their natural setting. But I wanted to see if this Japanese rice could translate to New York. It was time.