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Recent price hikes have put the spotlight on the rice we eat, and the experts who choose it. Bourree Lam reports.

Until there wasn’t much, we cared very little. But now, as rice prices get ready to skyrocket, the public and media have turned their gaze to the humble grain. Following a firestorm of reports on an impending shortage in supply – due to recent turmoil in production regions – a wave of minor panic recently swept the city, complete with images on the evening news of housewives and maids rushing to the nearest ParknShop in order to stockpile sacks at home.

With the government’s constant reassurances there is enough rice for everyone, is there really any need to worry? A walk past the territory’s rice reserves on Connaught Road West should assuage fears that Hong Kong is running short. Yet the rumored shortages have again raised public concerns that this simple grain may not be around forever.

Rice has long occupied a central role in China’s agricultural past and present. According to the UN (as if we needed them to make it official), China is the world’s largest producer of rice. Heck, even our most famous homegrown alcohol come from fermented rice (i.e. rice wine). Completely embedded in Chinese culture, rice has even infiltrated the language, and is used in many adjectives and idioms. Indeed, the phrase, “have you eaten rice?” is analogous to asking someone if they’ve eaten at all.

In today’s Hong Kong, 90 percent of our rice is imported from Thailand. However, there was a time when it all used to be produced locally – in paddy fields all over the New Territories.

"Yuen Long used to produce great jasmine rice," says Leung Ming Toe, local rice expert and owner of restaurant Dai Wing Wah. Nowadays though, Hong Kong rice is a commodity of the past.

 "Hong Kong has always imported rice," says rice kingpin Anthony Lam, regional general manager of Golden Resources, the largest rice wholesaler and distributor in Hong Kong. According to him and others, the city's standard for rice is especially high; requiring companies such as Lam’s to refine the grain to meet resident’s expectations. Quality is judged on the grain’s moisture, amylase level, and freshness – all factors that decide the final taste of cooked rice.

Across the waters, the Japanese are so concerned with quality they have a government assisted taste analysis process to determine the best tasting grains. No such thing as yet exists in Hong Kong; here the task is left to famed chefs, and elusive experts known as the rice masters.

"They have the authority," admits Lam. “They have over 40 years of experience, with great taste buds. They know from just touching the rice."

The mysterious rice masters are a few wise old men, whose fulltime job is to taste rice and judge its merits. However rice connoisseurs have a trick of their own: First, 100 grains of rice are cooked. Then a piece of glass is pressed down on the rice kernels. Great rice is clear when pressure is applied, whereas average rice will appear white. However, if you’re really looking to track down a master, you can head to one of the city’s few remaining specialty rice shops.

Jimmy Kwok of Wing Kee Rice Co. in Sham Shui Po has sold rice for more than 50 years. He’s a man with plenty of expertise and very little time – orders roll in unceasingly while we speak. Between calls, Kwok offers a few simple tips for novices. First, "Run the rice through your hands," he advises. "Great rice has a slippery feel. You don't get that with lower quality rice."
Second, smell the grains. Kwok advises you hold a handful right up to your nose, and sniff the grains for fragrance – the more pungent the better.
As for blending grains, "Rice mixing is only relevant if you want different textures in your bowl," Kwok explains. “We don't mix our rice," says Teresa Wong from Fook Lam Moon restaurant. "Our head chef selects and picks the rice we use carefully from our vendor."
In the end, the key to having great rice is working with a knowledgeable dealer. Yung Kee (a Hong Kong institution famous for its roasted goose and great rice), like most local restaurants, has its own specialized rice dealer. The exception is the owner of Dai Wing Wah, who imports rice from a friend he knows in China, preferring the crisp texture of Chinese rice over smooth Thai varieties.

Whether it’s from the Mainland or Thailand, Hongkongers will eventually begin paying more for their rice. The humble grain we’ve always taken for granted has finally got our attention. Perhaps now we’ll value it as much as some in our city clearly already do.