For a deeply comforting bowl, I fry eggs in butter and drizzle soy sauce and sesame oil into the skillet so they sizzle, then spoon everything over warmed-up leftover rice and top with roasted seaweed.

If you, like me, often end up with a container of cold rice sitting in the fridge, let me save you from watching it slowly harden from neglect—turn it into gyeran bap. The Korean dish of rice, eggs, and a few pantry staples is one of the simplest, most comforting meals you can make with day-old grains. It’s proof that leftover rice isn’t a sad afterthought, but a great dinner waiting to happen.

My love for gyeran bap started in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where I lived with one of my best friends, who was also my coworker at America’s Test Kitchen. We eventually fell into a rhythm and every evening we’d come home from work, set the rice cooker, and let it hum in the background while my cat weaved between our legs, angling for an early dinner. Then we’d retreat to our bedrooms to unwind from the day—reading, writing, listening to music—and emerge again around 8 p.m. to scoop the warm rice into bowls and top it with whatever quick dinner we threw together, usually a simple stir-fry, curry, or whatever we scrounged up from the test kitchen’s fridge. We’d eat, watch an episode of something, talk, and go to bed with full, content bellies—all three of us, the cat included.

My biggest complaint about our rice cooker was that it always left us with extra rice—even when we cooked the minimum amount it allowed. But that turned out to be the best part: The leftovers led to my roommate introducing me to Eric Kim’s recipe for gyeran bap, Korean egg rice.

What Is Gyeran Bap?

Gyeran bap—literally egg rice in Korean—is a humble, comforting meal of rice, fried eggs, and a few pantry staples. It’s both effortless and deeply satisfying, proof that a perfect bowl of rice doesn’t need much to become a full meal. In many Korean homes, there’s almost always a rice cooker filled with warm rice ready to go, but typically we made our gyeran bap with leftover rice reheated in the microwave.

In Kim’s version, butter is browned until nutty, then two eggs are cracked into the pan. As soon as they hit the heat, soy sauce and sesame oil are drizzled on top, sizzling and bubbling in the butter. The soy sauce reduces and caramelizes when it meets the hot pan, infusing the butter and lightly staining the egg whites as they turn lacy and crisp, while the yolks stay soft and custardy. The eggs, along with all their buttery soy drippings, are poured over a bowl of rice and topped with a generous pile of gim (crushed roasted seaweed). Mixed together, the yolks coat every grain, the seaweed softens, and each bite tastes buttery, toasty, and deeply savory. This simple, quick-to-prepare dish became a staple weekend lunch in our sunny little Victorian apartment.

Gyeran bap can differ from household to household. Some people brown the butter until it smells nutty, like Kim does. Others simply melt the butter without browning it. Some fry the eggs until the edges frill and crisp, while others cook them just until the whites are set and the yolks stay soft. Some skip the butter altogether and use vegetable oil to fry the eggs, adding sesame oil at the end for flavor. And while gim is the classic topping, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to serve this with a spoonful of kimchi, a scattering of sesame seeds or scallions, slices of avocado, or even some fish roe if you’re feeling fancy.

Personally, I follow Kim’s recipe almost exactly (I can recite it by heart at this point), though I do sometimes skip the nonstick pan he suggests and fry the eggs in a stainless-steel skillet—the higher heat gives the edges an even crispier, lacier finish. And if I have kimchi or avocado on hand, I’ll add them on top. I make gyeran bap so often that I now regularly buy the roasted seaweed snack packs sold at mainstream grocery stores like Whole Foods.

When’s the Best Time to Eat Gyeran Bap?

People in Korea eat gyeran bap for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Made with pantry staples—rice, eggs, butter or oil, soy sauce, and sesame oil—it’s quick, reliable, and deeply comforting. For me, it’s become my ideal work-from-home lunch between meetings and errands. There are days when life feels like a constant list—emails, immigration paperwork, annual vet appointments, remembering to call my grandmother, and the future planning that’s always waiting its turn. In the middle of all the cacophony, this bowl feels like one of the few easy things—a comforting pause in a day full of to-dos that never seems to dwindle.

The Allure of the Rice and Egg Bowl

What makes a rice bowl (especially this one) so appealing is how simple and adaptable it is. Rice is a blank canvas—a pantry staple most of us already have—while eggs add substance and protein, turning it into a filling meal with little effort. From there, it’s whatever you have: a drizzle of hot sauce, a spoonful of chili oil, a few slices of avocado, or some scallions scattered on top.

And then there’s the bowl itself. It doesn’t ask for much beyond a spoon—you can cup it in your hands on the couch, tuck it close while you eat standing at the counter, or balance it on your lap on the floor. You’ll find versions of this kind of meal everywhere. In Peru, tacu tacu is made by searing day-old rice and beans into a crisp, golden cake, often finished with a fried egg. For the Japanese dish gyūdon, thinly sliced beef and onions are simmered in a lightly sweet soy-and-dashi broth and piled over rice, sometimes with a raw or soft-poached egg on top. In Indonesia, nasi telur ceplok—which translates pretty literally to “rice with a fried egg”—is a simple dish of warm rice topped with a crisp-edged egg and sambal on the side. Different kitchens, different details, but it still comes back to the same thing: rice and an egg, warm and complete in a bowl.

Some meals take care of you without asking you to use every bowl and pan in your kitchen, without demanding hours of prep or a high grocery bill. A truly delicious yet simple meal can perk up your day. Gyeran bap is and will always be that to me.