There is a lot of rice in my diet these days.
Always has been, come to think of it. I spent five formative years and one decadent adult year in Hawaii, and you got rice with everything.
I lived in Japan for half a year, and... rice.
Here in the contiguous 48, I tend to choose rice over almost any other carb. Potatoes are great, believe me, and noodles are oodles of good. But if I'm cooking a nice fillet of fish, the side will be rice. That's just built into me.
It's amazing how varied your rice dishes can become.
Add some chicken and broth; rice can make a meal: here. With beans and greens, rice is always welcome: here. Eggs (and milk and asparagus) do make rice nice: here.
We (Cranky and me) are working on a casserole baked egg-and-rice preparation, and it seems to afford infinite variations.
Since we were so happy with our first version, we did it again yesterday, and we oomphed the flavor profile decidedly into the "fried rice" quadrant of our dining pleasure. The (cooked, cold) rice was stirred with eggs and then mixed with sauteed flavors — shiitake, scallion, sliced carrot, ginger, garlic, Asian liquids. Bakey bake bake (covered, 25 minutes, 350F). Then voilà, and I wish I knew how to say that in Mandarin or Cantonese (though if you were to research fried rice, you'd see that it's become a worldwide phenomenon, with regional variations).
OK, that was yesterday. We had leftovers.
Today we had a smoked pork sausage (spicy-hot), which we cubed, tiny, and fried up. Scattered that all over the warmed leftovers (and I didn't take a picture yesterday because the mushroom juice that leaks out makes the eggs ugly; today they're pretty under a shower of charcuterie). The sausage reminded us, just a little, of those crazy, shriveled Chinese sausages. So we were happy.
Seriously, if rice is on the menu tomorrow, I'm happy.