Ancient Grains for Modern Meals - Maria Speck [86]
Buckwheat comes to your table in two distinct variations. One is the raw grayish-green seed with a white center, a bit hard to find yet worth seeking out for its mild, earthy flavor with grassy undertones. The other is the aromatic toasted kernel, generally referred to as kasha, which adds a marked roasted sweetness; some even detect hints of cocoa. The seeds of buckwheat have delicate skin and a soft crunch, they are not chewy at all, and they cook up into a comforting side dish cherished in eastern Europe. This makes them appealing when you are just exploring the many faces of whole grains.
My own slow passion for buckwheat started with the raw seed grains. Their subdued mildness allows them to be paired with bold flavors, suited to rich meat and vegetable dishes. German recipes pair buckwheat with robust sauerkraut, white wine, and apples, adding sage, marjoram, and lovage. Eastern Europeans have traditionally eaten it as a staple like rice, as well as baked it into sweet puddings. Russian blini, the famous small pancakes, showcase the darkish flour. So do the Italian pizzoccheri pasta, the Japanese soba, and the galettes and crepes of Brittany in northern France.
My first experience with toasted buckwheat or kasha, on the other hand, was a disaster. I had simmered the reddish brown seeds in stock, assuming they would turn out similar to their raw cousins—only to find them disintegrating faster then I could turn my back on the pan. I love mush, but this was mush of a different order. It tasted plain awful, akin to wet flour. And so kasha, regrettably, fell off my radar screen for years, until I found a simple yet intriguing recipe. In it the kernels were coated in egg before being added to the pan. This made mecurious. An egg coating? Years had passed since my first-class mush. Why not give it another try? You probably know where this is going: the kasha turned out delectably good. The egg-coated kernels stayed nice and firm, the roasted aroma was addictive, and the meal left a mark on my culinary memory. My husband and I devoured the whole skillet (4 servings!) and cooked up another batch a few days later.
Chapter 5
PASTA
Mention whole wheat pasta to your friends, and in all likelihood they will look uninterested at best. “Gritty,” “overly chewy,” and “wheaty” they might moan. I was lucky: my first experience with whole wheat pasta was homemade, prepared from freshly ground wheat berries, made with farmers’ market eggs, kneaded and rolled out by hand and left to dry on a wooden noodle board. Yes, those fettuccine were chewier than their refined white counterparts, and no doubt unusual, but mesmerizing. They were hearty, fresh, and full of flavor, like no pasta I had ever eaten.
I don’t remember how this fettuccine was served. But the friend who made it was an exquisite home cook. I’m sure she knew the most important secret when preparing assertive whole wheat pasta: serve it with an equally assertive sauce. Rustic? Yes, and superb. Think walnuts, radicchio, and bacon, or caramelized onions and spicy tuna. Still a skeptic? Try whole wheat pasta during the holidays with a fragrant blend of roasted chestnuts, hazelnuts, and fried sage leaves.
For all practical purposes, the recipes in this chapter are written for store-bought pasta. All of my pasta servings are less than the standard amount of one pound of pasta for four people. But rest assured, these recipes will not leave you hungry. For one, whole grain pasta is more nourishing than refined pasta, and will keep you nicely satisfied as a result. In addition, as with all good pasta, some sauces or toppings will make you swoon with deliciously rich ingredients, which satisfy hunger in other ways. I believe in such cases that less is more, so