You Didn't Have to Be So Nice

I would have liked you anyway.
You were just a mish-mash of leftovers, combined with some rice and cooked, all gunky and savory, in the rice cooker.
You were dowdy, but, draped in accessories of chopped cilantro and crumbled goat feta, you sparkled.
What amazed me was your depth, your sweetness, your complexity, and yet, your very simpleness.

It was a case of needing to use up some delicious liquid left from cooking black beans. This broth was already flavored very well, sort of Latin-ish with cumin and garlic. Bay leaf, of course. Then there was the drib of homemade tomato sauce, about half as much as there was bean juice. Mixed together, they yielded a cup and a half, so we just cooked 3/4 cup of rice with it until the beeper beeped. There. That's the recipe.

You were surprisingly delicious, in a Spanish Rice and Beyond kind of way; a little caramelized and sticky, hot, dark and sexy.
More than I expected.
And it's true.
I adored every lovin' spoonful.