Though it is shameful, I will admit that I used to cook Uncle Ben's Instant Rice. Yes, it is true - up until three years ago the self-proclaimed food snob had a deep connection to the big orange box of pre-cooked rice.

"Why bother with that other, raw kind of rice," I would argue, "it's such a hassle to cook!"

The plain truth of the matter is that I was afraid of rice. The little white grains had me in their thrall - they looked so small, so unassuming, yet every time I attempted to cook them I ended up with dry, burnt-tasting clumps and a blackened pot. I had Rice-A-Phobia. It took a lot of work in the kitchen to get me to the stage I am at now, where I can comfortably cook raw rice and even leave the kitchen while I do it.

Since the time of my liberation from Uncle Ben I have come to understand that many people face fears and have phobias in the kitchen. They do not understand in what order to do things, in what proportion to use herbs and spices, or which flavours are well suited to go together. Because of their fears they may not even attempt to cook, and so those mouth-watering recipes of their mothers’ sit to gather dust on the shelves, and the microwaveable dinner plates pile up in the blue box.

The solution to all these problems is baby steps, and the courage to bounce back after failures. In the movie What About Bob, Bill Murray used baby steps to overcome his obsessive-compulsive disorder and subsequently drive Richard Dreyfus insane - proof that the principle works. Start small, forgive yourself your rookie mistakes, and soon you will not only be a chef of the highest caliber, but you can also drive your friends mad by being a know-it-all in the kitchen.

The first baby step involves the purchase of raw rice. For me, this required the heart-wrenching disposal of my box of Uncle Ben's and the purchase of a 10kg bag of raw rice. Then I Googled it, and thank the lord for Google. It taught me that I did not have to add precisely the right amount of water for my rice; I could add way too much water, boil the rice for 15 minutes, and then drain the excess. This procedure for cooking rice is not exactly kosher, but it is good enough. The final product is very wet rice, but it is rice, and it is made from scratch.

When I came to India I had mastered the art of boiling and draining, but I wanted to go one step further. I wanted to cook rice with the correct amount of water, without removing the lid. Luckily I live with a helpful bunch of Sri Lankans who make rice on a daily basis and who were able to show me the tricks of the trade, but not before I had blackened many a pot bottom and let many a pot boil over. The secret is this, my friends: for any amount of rice in the pot, cover it with water until it reaches three-quarters of the way up the middle finger towards the first knuckle (aka, just over the fingernail). Add a pinch of salt. Then bring it to a rolling boil, wait until the foamy starchy bubbles have lowered, reduce heat, cover, and simmer for 5 minutes, or until the rice has the desired consistency. Yes, it is that easy.

Once the act of making plain rice has been mastered it is possible to make variations on a theme. Cooking is like music, and once you know the melody you can harmonize. Some great rice recipes include fried rice, rice pudding, or coconut rice; bhaji rice, curd rice, biryani, wild rice, sushi rice, risotto - the potential of rice is inexhaustible. Like Bob, you too can get carried away by the magic of overcoming your fears. And, like Bob, you could even go on to write your own book about your miraculous recovery from Rice-A-Phobia. Until that day, content yourself by cooking rice the real way, and then fry it. Here’s how: