The Strange History of Rice-A-Roni aka Armenian Rice and Vermicelli Pilaf

Rice-a-Roni,the San Francisco treat, Rice-a-Roni, everybody’s got the beat…

By Joy E. Stocke

Hunterdon County New Jersey - April 13, 2020

Welcome to week-and-day-I’m-not-sure of the Covid-19 pandemic lockdown; in my case in western Hunterdon County, New Jersey. We are rural, but, we are also an hour and change from New York City, the epicenter of the Covid-19 outbreak and about the same distance from Philadelphia.

As of this writing there are 314 reported confirmed cases of Covid 19, 1 recovery, and 1 death in our county. May we hit the plateau various governors are talking about, and may we stay safe and continue to honor quarantine guidelines - masks, gloves, Purell, social distancing. Many of us have also joined the worldwide mandate to: Clean out our pantries and be grateful for what we’ve stored away for a time like this.

In the midst of my weekend purge, I was reminded of a favorite dish from my childhood, its iconic box and its jingle, now stuck in my head…Rice-A-Roni, the San Francisco treat… And, I recalled a recipe Angie Brenner and I recreated for our cookbook, Tree of Life: Turkish Home Cooking: Armenian Rice and Vermicelli Pilaf. The recipe is based on a our travels in Turkey and especiallly to the eastern city of Van, once the capital of the Armenian Empire. And where we learned to make Armenian rice pilaf.

At the begining of the twentieth century, when the Ottoman Empire was rapidly crumbling, Turkey’s Armenian population was forced from their homes in Eastern Anatolia. Hundreds of thousands were killed and buried in unmarked graves. Those who survived, including Pailadzo Captanian, pregnant with her third child at the time, walked through the scrub-land of Mesopotamia in more than 100 degree heat in the summer and sub-zero temperatures in the winter to the safety of Aleppo, Syria. Pailadzo eventually relocated to America and settled in San Francisco. There, she and her fellow refugees continued to cook the humble food they loved, made delicious with techniques passed from mother to daughter, techniques that turned simple dishes into glorious ones.

When Pailadzo shared her dish for pilaf - rice and thin pasta sautéed in butter before adding liquid - with her Italian tenants, Lois and Tom DeDomenico (Tom’s family happened to own a pasta company), the legendary “San Francisco treat” was born. In 1955, after years of experimentation, the DeDomenicos perfected a packaged recipe, and the family’s Golden Grain pasta company suddenly gave Kraft Mac and Cheese a run for its money.

By the early sixties, my stay-at-mom (a superb cook) was raising four children under the age of five. Enter convenience foods. And what could be more romantic, or at least hopeful, for a mom living on the bottom floor of a small duplex with two bedrooms and one bath, and a dining room that served as a playroom, than a dish via Van, Turkey - home of Mount Ararat where Noah’s ark found dry land - to polyglot San Francisco, California, where little cable cars climbed halfway to the stars. A dish her kids devoured.

Here’s Angie’s and my version of the boxed mix. In my cupboard, I found a third of a box of thin spaghetti of unknown age, some plain Basmati rice and enough brown basmati rice to make a cup. I only had half a stick of butter left in the fridge, but I thought, if I don’t use it now, when?

The original Rice-A-Roni had a “special” flavor packet that fascinated me as I kid, so I opted to use a bullion cube also from the back of my cupboard to replicate the just-from-the box flavor. One of my fave cooking cheats to have on hand is a jar of “Better than Bouillon.” Kind of like the Maggi seasoning my grandmother also always had on hand.

HOMEMADE RICE-A-RONI from Tree of Life: Turkish Home Cooking

2 tablespoons butter

1/2 cup (50g) angel hair (vermicelli) or thin spaghetti broken into 1/4 inch or so pieces

1 cup (180 grams) basmati (or any) rice you have in your cupboard

Approximately 1 tablespoon bouillon base, or

2 1/2 cups any stock, animal or vegetable, or water

If using water, add 1 teaspoon kosher salt. If using a bouillon cube or stock, adjust salt to taste

I/2 cup chopped parsley, or use whatever you have on hand

1 lemon, if you have one

Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium low heat. When the butter begins to foam, add the pasta and stir until the noodles turn golden brown, releasing a nutty aroma. Add the rice and cook for 1 minute or until the rice becomes translucent. Turn to simmer and mash in the bouillon if using.

Add the stock and salt to the rice and pasta. Turn heat to medium high. Stir to combine and bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cover the pot. Cook for 20 minutes without opening the lid.

After 20 minutes, check to see that the rice and pasta have absorbed the liquid. If not, cook 1 or 2 minutes more, making sure that the pilaf doesn’t burn. Remove from the heat and drain any excess liquid if it exists. Cover the pot with a thin towl or paper towel. Let rest covered for a few minutes before serving.

While the rice rests, cut the lemon cheeks. To make lemon cheeks: Slice a thin piece from the bottom of a lemon to make a base. Stand lemon on base and slice a section of the chubby part of the lemon from top to bottom. You can cut four cheeks, or more, if you’re clever with a knife. Discard the center of the lemon or squeeze into a strainer and save the juice.

Pile pilaf into a bowl, and top with chopped parsley. Serve with the lemon cheeks on the side.

Serves 4.

Ingredients from my pantry. A little bit of this and a little bit of that.

Able-bodied assistant Howard breaking the vermicelli.