A lot of my friends have fond childhood memories of coming home from school to a plate of chocolate chip cookies and milk. Or of sipping hot apple cider on snowy days. Or being gingerly handed a bowl of chicken soup when they were sick.

So what sends me back to a time when climbing trees and playing with dolls were top priorities? My mom's toasted rice balls. The thought of those little fried morsels transports me to my parents' little brick house where the large pruned trees shaded an immaculate lawn that my dad had taken great pains to perfect.

My older brother and I — the only American-born members of our Vietnamese family — used to spend Saturday mornings watching cartoons such as He-Man, Dungeons and Dragons and Robotech.

As we zoned out in front of the tube, Mom furiously worked over her butcher block to prepare for church functions, get-togethers, or dinner later that day. Pausing briefly from her frenetic preparations, she'd pull out the large frying pan from under the oven and slowly heat it. Then she'd take leftover cooked rice from the night before and throw it on the pan.

She always knew how much salt to sprinkle in and how long to leave the rice cooking in the pan to dry it a bit and give it a crispy texture.

Then, like a symbol of great sacrifice to her children, she'd scoop up a small amount of the hot, steaming rice and toss it back and forth between her bare hands. She often grimaced and made hissing sounds, as if she were in labor with a ninth child. She blew on her hands to cool down the rice as she molded it into an egg shape.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. More grimacing. More blowing on the hands.

And then Mom would holler in Vietnamese, "Kim! Tam! Get over here!"

Me and my bro, eyes bleary and hair disheveled, would stagger toward the stove like a pair of drunken zombies. Mom would hand over those rice balls while hollering that sitting close to the TV would blind us, that we needed to do our chores as soon as our show was over, and for God's sake, take a shower — you both stink.

We'd go back to our spots in front of the TV, where we'd devour in seconds those perfectly molded and seasoned, warm, slightly crunchy pillows of white.

Then it was back to the stove like little starving urchins to ask for seconds.

Mom would let out a great sigh, put down her cleaver and the dead carcass she was butchering, and turn on the stove again.

Fast forward 10 or 15 years now, and Mom still hisses at us when we come home and whine for toasted rice balls. She still puts down the cleaver and pulls out a large frying pan, but instead of hollering at us to get to our chores, she nags us to make our own toasted treats.

We've tried making rice balls in our own homes, but they never come out right. Too salty. Too bland. Too wet. The rice is burnt. It looks like a lumpy cube.

So when friends say their mom just has that touch with chicken soup or chocolate chip cookies, my siblings and I are quick to point out that our mom has that touch with comfort food, too.

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TOASTED RICE BALLS

INGREDIENTS:

— 2 cups cooked Jasmine rice. (Steer clear from steamed rice that came from last nights Chinese takeout; it will be too dry and wont stick together when you form the rice balls.)

— 3/4 to 1 teaspoon of salt, depending on taste. Use salts that are in small crystals, like iodized salt, as it will be blended in the rice more thoroughly.

Makes 3 to 6 rice balls, depending on the size of your hand

DIRECTIONS:

— Heat a non-stick frying pan over high heat. To see if the pan is at appropriate heat, place your hand a couple of inches above the pan. If you can keep it there for 4 to 5 seconds before pulling away, then its ready for the rice.

— Turn the heat down to medium-medium high and place the rice on the pan. Using a plastic spoon or wetted wooden spoon, spread the rice out around the pan, creating a thin layer.

— Sprinkle salt evenly over the rice.

— Toss the rice occasionally for 10 to 15 minutes, or until the rice begins to get crisp up. Use a plastic spoon or wet a wooden spoon before tossing the rice to avoid it from sticking to the utensil.

— Remove the pan from the heat. Scoop up enough rice to fit your palm to mold into desired shape. Be sure to wet your hands before handling the hot rice to make it easier to mold the balls and prevent the rice from clinging to your palms and fingers.

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asap contributor Kim Nguyen is a reporter in the AP's Denver bureau.

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