I Tried Roy Choi’s Underwear Rice Bowl Recipe

What Is Roy Choi’s Underwear Rice Bowl?

The Underwear Rice Bowl appears in The Choi of Cooking: Flavor-Packed, Rule-Breaking Recipes for a Delicious Life, Roy Choi’s 2025 cookbook written with Tien Nguyen and Natasha Phan. The book focuses on practical, vegetable-forward meals that satisfy real cravings without demanding a complete personality transplant.

This particular dish is connected to Choi’s childhood. He has described it as something his father prepared when the family needed an easy meal. Even now, the combination reportedly takes him back to a comforting and emotionally safe place.

That history explains why the recipe feels more like a household ritual than a polished restaurant dish. There is no elaborate sauce reduction, no tower of microgreens, and no ingredient that requires a treasure map to find. It is hot rice mixed with familiar pantry staples until everything becomes creamy, savory, tangy, and deeply comforting.

Why Is It Called an Underwear Rice Bowl?

The name captures the mood of the meal. This is what you make when the day is over, your respectable outdoor clothes have been abandoned, and you are officially operating in comfort mode. It is dinner for the moment when answering the door would require an unreasonable amount of preparation.

The playful title also reflects Choi’s broader approach to food. His cooking often ignores unnecessary boundaries between refined technique, street food, home cooking, Korean flavors, Mexican influences, and American comfort-food cravings. The Underwear Rice Bowl may be humble, but it is not careless.

The Ingredients I Used

The published dish is built around rice, eggs, butter, soy sauce, sesame oil, kimchi, and seasonings. Because this was a personal kitchen test rather than a reproduction of the cookbook’s complete copyrighted recipe, I used the following proportions for one generous bowl:

• 1 1/2 cups freshly cooked or thoroughly reheated short-grain rice
• 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
• 2 large pasteurized eggs
• 1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
• 1 to 2 teaspoons soy sauce, adjusted to taste
• 1/3 cup chopped napa cabbage kimchi
• 1 teaspoon toasted sesame seeds
• 1 tablespoon sliced scallions
• Furikake or crushed roasted seaweed, optional

Short-grain rice was my first choice because its slightly sticky texture made the bowl cohesive without turning it into porridge. Medium-grain rice would also work well. Long-grain rice produces a looser result, but it is still perfectly acceptable when that is what happens to be sitting in the refrigerator.

What Each Ingredient Contributes

Hot rice is the foundation and the primary cooking tool. It must be hot enough to melt the butter and begin thickening the eggs.

Eggs add protein, richness, and a custard-like quality. Once mixed into the rice, they coat the grains instead of sitting separately on top.

Butter softens the sharp edges of the fermented and salty ingredients. It also makes a bowl of plain rice taste suspiciously luxurious.

Soy sauce supplies salt and savory depth. A little goes a long way, especially because kimchi and furikake may already contain significant sodium.

Sesame oil provides the unmistakable toasted aroma that announces itself before the spoon reaches your mouth.

Kimchi prevents the dish from becoming one-dimensional. Its acidity, chile heat, garlic, fermentation, and crunch cut through the butter and egg.

How I Made the Underwear Rice Bowl

Step 1: Get the Rice Extremely Hot

I began with freshly cooked short-grain rice and transferred it immediately to a large ceramic bowl. A small cereal bowl would have looked charming, but it would also have launched rice onto the counter during mixing. This recipe rewards choosing a bowl with room for enthusiastic stirring.

Leftover rice can also be used, provided it has been stored safely and reheated thoroughly. I would add a teaspoon of water, cover it loosely, and microwave it until it is steaming hot throughout.

Step 2: Mix in the Butter

I added the butter while the rice was still releasing visible steam. It melted almost instantly, glossing the grains and producing an aroma that made the unfinished bowl smell more promising than several fully completed dinners I have eaten.

Step 3: Add the Eggs

I cracked two pasteurized eggs directly into the buttered rice and stirred quickly. The mixture initially looked loose and alarmingly breakfast-adjacent. After continued stirring, however, the eggs began clinging to the hot grains and forming a creamy coating.

Because the heat of a bowl of rice may not cook eggs evenly to a safe temperature, I microwaved the mixture in short intervals, stirring between each one, until the eggs were set and the center reached 160°F. This preserved the creamy texture while removing the uncomfortable question of whether dinner had become a microbiology experiment.

Step 4: Season Carefully

I stirred in one teaspoon of toasted sesame oil and started with one teaspoon of soy sauce. After tasting, I added another small splash. Gradual seasoning matters here because kimchi varies enormously in saltiness.

Step 5: Finish with Kimchi and Toppings

I placed the chopped kimchi along one side rather than mixing all of it into the rice immediately. This allowed me to control how much acidity and heat entered each bite. Sesame seeds, scallions, and a modest shake of furikake completed the bowl.

My First Impression

Visually, the Underwear Rice Bowl will not cause a pastry chef to clutch a piping bag in admiration. The egg-coated rice is pale and soft, while the kimchi provides the main burst of color. It looks homemade because it is supposed to look homemade.

The aroma was much more dramatic. Toasted sesame oil rose first, followed by butter, warm rice, and the sour-garlicky scent of kimchi. The combination smelled comforting but lively, like a quiet evening that still had excellent snacks planned.

The first bite delivered buttery rice, gentle egg richness, and enough soy sauce to make the flavors feel complete. The second bite included kimchi, which changed everything. Its acidity sliced through the fat, its chile added warmth, and its cabbage supplied the crunch that the soft rice desperately needed.

Without kimchi, the bowl would still be soothing, but it might become repetitive halfway through. With kimchi, each spoonful can be adjusted. One bite can be mellow and buttery; the next can be sharp, funky, and spicy.

Why This Simple Rice Bowl Works

It Balances Richness with Acidity

Butter and egg create a rich base, while fermented kimchi contributes acid and heat. That contrast keeps the bowl satisfying rather than heavy. It follows a principle seen in many successful rice bowls: neutral grains become more interesting when paired with strongly seasoned toppings.

It Uses Texture Strategically

The rice and eggs are both soft, so sesame seeds, scallions, seaweed, and crisp kimchi provide necessary contrast. Even a small amount of crunch makes the bowl feel more complete.

It Is Fast Without Feeling Empty

Many emergency meals solve hunger but fail to deliver pleasure. This one does both. It can be assembled in minutes, yet butter, sesame oil, soy sauce, and fermentation create layers of flavor normally associated with a more involved recipe.

It Encourages Improvisation

The foundation is forgiving. Choi has suggested additions such as leftover vegetables, green beans, blanched greens, chile threads, vinegar, lime zest, or Thai basil. The goal is not to bury the rice under every vegetable in the crisper drawer. It is to add small elements that make the meal more nourishing and interesting while preserving its relaxed personality.

Changes I Would Make Next Time

The original concept is strong enough that it does not need a major renovation. Still, a few adjustments could tailor the bowl to different cravings.

Add Something Green

Baby spinach, bok choy, cabbage, or chopped green beans would fit naturally. I would cook or reheat the vegetables before adding them so they do not cool the rice during the crucial egg-mixing stage.

Use a Fried Egg for More Texture

Anyone uncomfortable mixing eggs into hot rice can place one or two fried eggs on top instead. Crisp edges and a runny or jammy yolk would create a different but equally satisfying experience. Cook the eggs to the level of doneness appropriate for your health needs.

Increase the Heat

A little gochugaru, chile crisp, sliced serrano pepper, or hot sauce would make the bowl more aggressive. I would avoid adding several spicy condiments at once unless the evening’s entertainment includes staring bravely into the middle distance.

Add Roasted Seaweed

Crushed gim or roasted seaweed snacks would contribute salt, umami, and a delicate crispness. Seaweed also works particularly well with sesame oil and egg.

Try Buttered Kimchi

Sautéing kimchi briefly in a little butter would mellow its raw sharpness and deepen its sweetness. I enjoyed the fresh crunch of cold kimchi, but warm buttered kimchi would make the entire bowl feel more unified.

Is Roy Choi’s Underwear Rice Bowl Healthy?

“Healthy” depends on portion size, individual dietary needs, and what is added to the bowl. Rice provides carbohydrates, while eggs contribute protein, choline, vitamins, and fat. Kimchi adds vegetables and fermented flavor, although it can be high in sodium. Butter, soy sauce, sesame oil, and seasoned toppings should therefore be used thoughtfully.

The bowl becomes more nutritionally varied when paired with spinach, bok choy, broccoli, mushrooms, green beans, or another vegetable. People watching their sodium intake can use reduced-sodium soy sauce, a smaller serving of kimchi, and unseasoned seaweed.

What the dish does especially well is offer a realistic alternative to ordering a heavier restaurant meal when energy is low. It does not require perfection, calorie arithmetic, or a ceremonial arrangement of twelve meal-prep containers.

Important Food-Safety Tips

The traditional method relies on extremely hot rice to cook the eggs, but home kitchens vary. Rice may lose heat while being transferred, cold eggs can lower the temperature quickly, and vigorous stirring does not guarantee that every part reaches a safe level.

For greater safety, use pasteurized eggs and heat the finished egg-and-rice mixture to 160°F. People who are pregnant, older, immunocompromised, or serving young children should be particularly cautious with undercooked eggs.

Cooked egg dishes should reach 160°F, while reheated leftovers should generally reach 165°F. Refrigerate cooked rice within two hours, store it in a shallow covered container, and reheat only the portion you intend to eat.

My Verdict on the Underwear Rice Bowl

Roy Choi’s Underwear Rice Bowl is not a recipe that tries to impress through complexity. Its appeal comes from understanding exactly what a tired person wants: heat, salt, fat, carbohydrates, a little spice, and almost no cleanup.

The butter and eggs make the rice creamy, soy sauce adds depth, sesame oil supplies aroma, and kimchi keeps the bowl awake. It is flexible enough to welcome leftovers but disciplined enough that it does not require them.

Would I make it again? Absolutely. I would keep the core combination intact, add a handful of greens, and make sure roasted seaweed was nearby. I might also wear respectable pants, but that remains strictly optional.

My Extended Experience Making and Eating the Recipe

The most surprising part of testing this recipe was how quickly it changed my expectations. Before cooking, I assumed it would taste like ordinary rice with breakfast ingredients. That description is technically accurate in the same way that a grilled cheese sandwich is technically heated bread with dairy products. It explains the structure while missing the emotional point.

The cooking process lasted only a few minutes, but temperature became more important than time. When the rice was piping hot, the butter disappeared immediately and the eggs began coating the grains. On a second small test using rice that had cooled for several minutes, the mixture stayed wet and uneven. That experiment confirmed that “hot rice” is not a casual suggestion. It is the engine of the recipe.

I also learned not to overuse soy sauce. My first instinct was to add a generous pour because a large bowl of rice looked capable of handling it. Fortunately, I tasted after the first teaspoon. Once kimchi and furikake joined the bowl, the seasoning level increased considerably. Had I followed my original impulse, the finished meal might have required a life jacket.

The kimchi placement made a noticeable difference. Mixing every piece into the rice created consistent flavor, but serving it on the side produced more enjoyable variation. Some spoonfuls were mellow and buttery. Others included cabbage, chile, garlic, scallion, and seaweed. That alternation kept the simple meal interesting until the final bite.

I tried three optional additions during the experience. The first was blanched spinach seasoned with only a drop of sesame oil. It added freshness without hijacking the bowl. The second was chile crisp, which tasted excellent but competed with the kimchi when I used more than half a teaspoon. The third was crushed roasted seaweed, which became my favorite upgrade. It contributed a clean oceanic savoriness and softened slightly as it touched the hot rice.

The bowl was also more filling than it looked. Rice and two eggs created a substantial base, while kimchi’s acidity prevented the richness from becoming exhausting. I did not feel as though I had eaten a carefully optimized wellness product. I felt as though I had eaten real comfort food that happened to include fermented cabbage and could easily accommodate vegetables.

Cleanup strengthened my opinion. One bowl, one spoon, and a measuring spoon were essentially the entire disaster zone. After recipes involving sheet pans, saucepans, cutting boards, strainers, and one mysterious utensil that always ends up under the refrigerator, this felt almost suspiciously civilized.

The Underwear Rice Bowl ultimately reminded me that a memorable recipe does not always need a dramatic technique. Sometimes its greatest achievement is recognizing a familiar human moment: you are hungry, tired, unwilling to cook properly, and dangerously close to paying delivery fees for food you do not particularly want.

This bowl meets that moment with warmth and humor. It transforms basic staples into something creamy, tangy, spicy, and personal. Roy Choi’s version carries memories of his father and childhood; future versions made in other homes will naturally collect different memories. That may be the best feature of the recipe. It gives you a dependable structure while leaving enough room for your own refrigerator, habits, cravings, and definition of comfort.

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