Properly cooked rice. Finally.

This is one of an occasional series on cooking devices which make a difference. For an index of cooking articles on this blog click here.

Purchase considerations:

I haven’t been eating that much rice this past decade, a period which, not coincidentally, coincides with my outlay of $10 on a rice cooker from Walmart. Named the Aroma it did nothing so much as stink. The outside would get dangerously hot – I’m talking burns if you touch it – and it was criminally incompetent in discharging its appointed task, that of making fluffy, nutritious rice. Just the thing, in other words, for the Walmart shopper and boy, did I ever get what I deserved?

So after every use I would swear at it lustily, promising myself to never trouble it again. Our relationship finally came to an end when the last batch of rice this execrable excrescence ever produced was burned on the bottom and raw on the top. Accompanied by a healthy and most satisfying kick, it ended up in the recycle bin.

After much research one manufacturer’s name kept cropping up, accompanied by praise as often as not. Zojirushi. Now I’m too old and wise to believe anything I read in Amazon reviews, but I do like to scan the one star ones as it’s probably unlikely anyone is actually paid to write those. Only 4% of ‘reviewers’ (chaps with a third grade command of the English tongue, without an analytical thought in their make-up) trashed the Zojirushi and their reasons were either that the non-stick coating flaked (yes, this will happen if you place the container in the dishwasher with its extremely high drying temperatures – duh!) or that the device failed after a relatively short period of use. Goodness, how hard is it to give the non-stick surface a rinse and a swipe with a soft sponge?

Zojirushi NP-GBC05 Induction Heating System Rice Cooker and Warmer, 0.54 Litre capacity.
The bright chromed lid opening button is a fingerprint magnet. Yes, it’s Made in Japan.

Accordingly, when I bought mine from Amazon I splashed out an additional $40 on a 4 year warranty which includes shipping costs both ways. And while an additional $40 is a lot, the machine alone ran me $180 + tax and I see it is now up to $225. That’s an awful lot of money for a rice maker, but then $10 for the Walmart stinker was a lot considering it never worked properly. Plus I had all the proceeds left over after selling all my MFT gear and buying the iPhone 11 Pro. And it was Christmas.

Use:

How is it to use? The machine has a 24 hour clock and can be set so that the rice is ready at a stated time. A batch of rice – whether 1/2 cup for one person or 3 cups for six (not 2 as engraved on the container) – takes 50 minutes to cook. Owing to the use of induction coils which surround the removable, non-stick container, heating is even throughout the rice and even on a first try the result was near perfect. I use common or garden Mahatma long grain white rice (newly bought after the old lot moldered in a container for years) and made the mistake of washing the rice before cooking. I used the clear 6.1 oz. container provided. The result was too mushy. So on a second try I did not wash the rice (in fact the rice packet says not to wash before cooking) and slightly cut the water. I used the green 5.8 oz. container (a seemingly minor difference, but these Japanese chaps power down a lot of the stuff while cranking out Nikons, so I trust their instructions) and slightly under-filled the container with water, thus:

Zojirushi water level for two cups of rice, enough for four people.

I went for the ‘sweet rice’ level, which is just a tad below the regular rice one. The result has been perfect the last three times, which means we have already eaten more rice in a week than in the past year. Thank you, Walmart. Incidentally, a Zojirushi ‘cup’, measured using their provided containers, is about 3/4 of a standard American cup. The Japanese, sumo wrestlers apart, are a small people ….

There are also settings for porridge (yecch!) and brown rice, the latter with an optional three hour presoak to allegedly improve release of chemicals which will double your fertility and put 35 points on your IQ. Uh huh! The special offer on the Brooklyn Bridge arrives after you mail in the warranty card.

The use instructions are written in perfect English (they must have used a Japanese to do the translation) and are clear and unambiguous.

Safety? Except for the small area on top, marked with two ‘C’ characters’ denoting the steam vent, you can cradle the device in your hands all day long, for it is properly insulated. And speaking of Nikons, the quality is comparable to that of those (mostly) well made prosumer cameras. Meaning it’s really good. The parts fit properly and the seams are even, just like on a Toyota. Not a whole lot seems to be going on during the cooking cycle except for the release of a few wisps of steam towards conclusion. There’s a folding carrying handle and if the 3 cup capacity is too low, Zojirushi will be happy to take more of your money for a larger one. Their site is here. Rice readiness is indicated by a sweet little melody which can be changed to beeps or to silence. Amazingly some Amazon reviewers complain the default melody cannot be turned off – these are the ones with 3rd grade reading skills.

The device will keep your rice warm for over 12 hours, but you are instructed to fluff it up after the conclusion of the cooking cycle, using the provided spatula.

Stupid design error:

So all is sweetness and light, and your wallet is lighter, too. Great rice every time, after a lengthy cooking cycle, but you simply program the timer to be ready at mealtime and load up the rice and water well in advance. No big deal.

But it wouldn’t do to make a perfect product and Zojirushi well and truly soils the sheets with its battery installation. The machine includes a small battery whose purpose, best as I can tell, is to keep the 24 hour clock running when it’s unplugged and to retain programming instructions for the readiness time. Zojirushi has yet to discover the EPROM, patented almost a half century ago. That battery is soldered to the circuit board, which means that you have to ship it back should the battery fail and you cannot live without retained programming instructions. (If you want to avoid programming, simply load her up and press the big yellow ‘Cooking’ button and your rice is ready in 50 minutes). So if you want to avoid paying for the shipping and repair costs because some twit decided to solder the battery in place, buy the warranty, as I did. You can bet that the round shipping trip plus repair costs will exceed $200 so the risk/reward on the cost of the warranty probably solves.

I rather suspect that the battery issue goes away if you keep the machine connected to the mains at all times, but I prefer to store it in the pantry in the interest of maximizing available countertop space.

Conclusion:

I cannot speak to longevity, yet, but the induction model Zojirushi makes perfect rice every time and has one idiotic design error, a memory battery soldered to the circuit board. A determined user would drill the casing and install an external battery holder, soldered into that circuit board. I can see doing that when the warranty expires and the battery dies the day after. Is it worth over $250 with warranty cost? How much rice do you eat and how much do you have left over after selling your antediluvian photo gear and buying the iPhone 11 Pro?

Update November, 2025:

I have found that the Zojirushi is also excellent with beans (black eyed, lentils, etc.). I use the ‘White Rice’ setting and add water as if I was making rice. Best of all it does a great job of making risotto, where I add chopped onions and chicken stock in place of water. Anyone who has gone through the agony of making risotto in a pan – constant stirring for 60 minutes – or in a pressure cooker – lots of clean-up – will know what I am going on about. I use the Zojirushi 3-5 times a week and have had zero performance issues.

Oven cleaner to the rescue.

Very occasionally I write about cooking tools in this journal. For an index of cooking articles on this blog click here.

Almost 12 years ago I wrote about the Sabatier non-stainless chef’s knife, and it remains as perfect as the day I bought it. Sadly, it seems that non-stainless knives are no longer available. Shame, they present the best possible cutting edge to your food, in exchange for a bit of love and care.

Great cooking tools are not the sole preserve of the gourmands who make France home, and Tojiro’s bread knife remains a marvel. The price of that tool has jumped around and is back to a bargain $20 as I write. It will beat the pants off your $100 German original.

Today I’m looking at restoring the original color and finish to a Le Creuset cast iron skillet. Get the 11.75″ one – only regrets will result if you chintz on the smaller one. The downsides of this tool are its high price and high weight, along with a tendency for the gorgeous flame finish (all Le Creuset cookware should only be bought in Flame. Nothing else looks right) to discolor with use. The upsides are that this is one of the few remaining Le Creuset tools to still be made in France (hence the price) and the fact that you can put it in an oven at broiler temperature comfortable in the knowledge that no damage will result. And your grandchildren will be passing it down to the next generation.

Mine was horribly discolored after years of brutal beatings.

Hard, baked on deposits.

Hot soapy water? Fughedaboutit.

A baking powder and water slurry? Useless.

Bar Keeper’s Friend cleaning solution? Bad idea. Despite claims to the contrary, just try rubbing some of this product between thumb and forefinger. Yup, it’s mildly abrasive, meaning that vigorous use will destroy the gloss on your cookware’s enamel.

So the hard stuff was called for.

The nasty stuff.

The makers say this oven cleaner is fume free (they lie), and take it from me. You want this nowhere near your kitchen surfaces. Off to the garage and give the pan a serious spray coat. The recommended cure time is 2 hours, cold, after which my pan’s surface looked like this – rubber gloves and paper garage towels are all that’s required:

80% clean after 2 hours.

OK, do it again:

Two more hours.

Now we are at 95% clean.

So, no more Mr. Nice Guy. Another coat and leave to stew overnight:

Aah!

Now we are very much in the land of diminishing returns, at 99% clean.

A thorough wash with soap and hot water is called for unless you want to grow another head and develop terminal cancer. But the gloss is there, as is the restored pride of ownership. A schmuck who uses a brassed up Nikon to broadcast his macho prowess is as bad a photographer as the lousy cook who takes no pride in the appearance of his tools is a chef.

Japanese. Think different.

For an index of cooking articles on this blog click here.

Some nine years ago I extolled the French Sabatier chef’s knife, and it remains in service to this day, sharpened on a Chef’s Choice 130 machine which combines a coarse grinding wheel, a fine polishing wheel and a miniature strop/steel which re-establishes the edge with negligible wear to the blade. Being at the peak of the culinary expertise of the free world no one beats French cooking, so the choice of the Sabatier was simple. That non-stainless steel knife – yes, it rusts as quickly as you glance at it – seems to have been discontinued in favor of the modern stainless variant, but I’m sticking with old tech because it works so very well. Just like ignition points in my old Airhead.

As it happens I like to cook bread and chanced on a fine Italian bread baking book by Carol Field. I’m having a blast working my way through it and, for the first time, find myself ordering groceries from Amazon. Have you tried finding durum wheat flour in your local store? Amazon has it, needless to say, which is why they will take over the world. One recent, successful effort saw a couple of loaves of Pane di Altamura exit the oven, a bread which hails from the heel of Italy and comes with a very hard crust.

Pane di Altamura, along with the now recycled Taiwanese bread knife.

But try as I might, sawing away with my Taiwanese bread knife offered more threat to my fingers than to my carb intake. The knife, properly sharpened, is next to useless.

When it comes to tools, the Japanese and Germans excel. Cars, cameras, power tools, knives – both nations massively recapitalized by the US in the late 1940s brought new thinking to tool design and ended up dominating their respective genres. Heck, this blog would have little to write about on the hardware front had there been no German or Japanese engineers. Sure, the easy answer when it comes to bread knives is to blow $130 or more on a Wüsthof, but that’s kind of offensive to my frugal ways, and there’s a far cheaper alternative which Just Works:

The Tojiro has at it with the Altamura crust – paper thin slices, effortless, total control.

I suppose all those centuries of seppuku, samurai sword feats and the occasional ritual disemboweling have allowed the Japanese to perfect their knife making expertise – I mean, when you are slicing your abdomen in half or beheading a fellow zealot you really want to do it just once – but the modern cook is the beneficiary of Tojiro’s skills. Price? You can get six or seven of these for the price of one fine killing machine from the Master Race and it is absolutely superb.

The wonderful selection of Tojiro’s specialty kitchen tools can be found here.