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From 45p to Fancy: Every Bag of Supermarket Rice, Cooked, Chilled and Ranked

Chin's Kitchen
From 45p to Fancy: Every Bag of Supermarket Rice, Cooked, Chilled and Ranked

Photo: Hayan Alhasan, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Rice is the quiet workhorse of the Chinese kitchen. It's also the ingredient British shoppers agonise over least — until the fried rice comes out clumpy, the congee goes gluey, and you're left wondering whether the problem was you or the 45p bag.

So we settled it properly. Nine bags of rice from Tesco, Sainsbury's, Asda, Morrisons and a couple of world-food aisle specialists. Cooked, cooled overnight, then blind-tasted across the three jobs rice actually does in our kitchens: fried rice, a plain steamed bowl, and congee. No branding, no packet promises. Just grains.

The Contenders

We kept it to what you can realistically buy on a British high street:

Each was cooked the same way: rinsed twice, 1:1.5 rice to water, low heat, lid on, ten minutes off the heat. Half went straight to tasting. Half spent the night in the fridge for the fried rice round — because day-old rice isn't a myth, it's physics.

Round One: Plain Steamed Rice

This is where jasmine rice ran away with it. The specialist Thai bag had that faint popcorn-and-floral smell that fills the kitchen before you've even lifted the lid, and the grains stayed distinct and springy. The own-brand fragrant rice was a respectable runner-up — noticeably better than the price suggests — while the branded basmati was lovely but tasted of, well, curry night, not congee night.

The own-brand long grain did exactly what it says: nothing. Flat, a bit brittle, grains that split at the edges. Perfectly edible. Utterly forgettable.

Winner: Specialist Thai jasmine.

Round Two: Fried Rice (The One That Actually Matters)

Here's the twist nobody expects: the £4 bag was not the winner.

Fried rice wants grains that stay separate after chilling, with enough surface starch to catch a bit of egg and take on soy without going soggy. The easy-cook long grain — parboiled, slightly unloved by food snobs — was genuinely brilliant here. Separate grains, no clumping, and it crisped up beautifully in the wok.

The premium jasmine, brilliant fresh, went slightly too soft overnight and turned mushy the moment it hit hot oil. The sushi rices clumped into a single civilised slab. Great for onigiri. Tragic for yangzhou fried rice.

Winner: Easy-cook long grain. Yes, really.

Round Three: Congee

Congee flips the brief entirely — you want collapse, starch, creaminess. Short grain is king. The Japanese-style short grain broke down into that silky, thick porridge you get in a good Cantonese kitchen, and the own-brand sushi rice got surprisingly close for a third of the price.

Long grains simply refuse to break down, leaving you with what can only be described as hot rice soup rather than proper jook. Fine in an emergency. Not the real thing.

Winner: Own-brand sushi rice — the value pick of the entire test.

So Which Bag Should You Buy?

After all the slurping and squinting, the answer is beautifully simple:

The one purchase we'd skip is the premium blended pilau-style bag. It costs the most, excels at nothing, and tastes like a compromise between two better rices.

A Few Things We Learned Along the Way

Rinsing matters more than brand. The unrinsed batches in every single category were stickier, murkier and duller. Two quick swills of cold water, thirty seconds of your life, consistently better rice.

The fridge test is non-negotiable for fried rice. Fresh-cooked rice steams in the wok instead of frying. Spread it on a plate, chill it overnight, and even the cheapest bag behaves.

And the world-food aisle remains the savviest corner of any British supermarket. The specialist jasmine cost less than the branded basmati and thrashed it in every round. Chinatown-adjacent grocers are even better if you've got one nearby.

The moral of the story: stop buying one bag of rice to do every job. A £1 bag for congee, a 45p bag for Friday night fried rice, and one good jasmine tin for everything else. Total outlay: less than a takeaway delivery fee. Your wok will thank you.

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