Rice and Flame reminds us how rice has been cooked for centuries: grains simmered patiently over an open flame. While most of us now rely on plug-and-go rice cookers, traditional Chinese claypot rice is made in clay or earthenware pots. It requires careful heat control and a bit of oil, but the reward is a pot of rice that’s fluffy and moist on top, with a deeply satisfying crunchy crust on the bottom.

When Instagram started buzzing about Rice and Flame’s “ancient” claypot rice, I was intrigued. It was winter, and a hearty pot of rice sounded exactly right. That said, I was also wary since the social media hype seemed more focused on the restaurant’s aesthetics and décor than the food. And while Rice and Flame is bright, airy, and comfortable, white chairs be damned… I came for the rice.

While many diners gravitate toward the braised pork belly, I knew the richness would be too much for me. Instead, I went with the golden satay beef pot rice ($22.99), which proved more up my alley. The satay flavour is subtle, with the well-marbled brisket tasting closer to Taiwanese braised beef with just a hint of earthiness. The rice itself was deeply flavoured, and the sauce helped form a beautifully caramelized crust, which was exactly what I was hoping for!

That said, the beef cuts were hit-or-miss. Some pieces were tender and flavourful, while others were tough and gristly and really should have been discarded. The surprise standout? Soft, chewy pieces of tendon that were easily my favourite part, and I wished there had been more.

Diners choose a rice base of bok choy with salted pork or mushroom and diced beef. Unfortunately, there doesn’t appear to be a vegetarian option. I stuck with the beef base, which worked overall, though the “diced beef” was really halved beef balls like those you’d find at hot pot restaurants. The mushrooms, meanwhile, were sparse and felt like an afterthought.

Rice and Flame could also rethink the order in which dishes are served. After such a flavourful start, the rainbow braised chicken pot rice ($19.99) felt flat by comparison. Even the theatrical shaving of an herb, resembling a small log of wood, over the rice didn’t help. To this day, I’m not sure what it was or what it contributed.

The chicken and potatoes were tender, but aside from a faint lingering spice, the dish lacked depth. Worse, the rice was overly oily and failed to develop much of a crust - the very thing claypot rice is celebrated for!

Life has a funny way of making you feel old. I soon realized this “ancient” technique is exactly how claypot rice was prepared when I was younger except with modern toppings now instead of preserved meats, chicken, and spareribs. What stood out most at Rice and Flame was an intense charcoal flavour, especially in the chicken dish, which crossed the line into overpowering for me.

Thankfully, we ended on a high note with the brown sugar glutinous rice cake ($6.99). The oozing syrup inside helped wash away that almost butane-like aftertaste. These were excellent - a crisp exterior giving way to a soft, chewy centre with a rich, molasses-like sweetness. I couldn’t finish the chicken rice, but these disappeared in a flash.

Rice and Flame nails the look and the service - it’s bright, welcoming, and clearly designed to impress. But when it comes to claypot rice, that comforting crust and deep, nostalgic flavour just didn’t consistently deliver. I’m going to chalk this one up to social media hype.