Ancient Grains for Modern Meals - Maria Speck [97]
From all the whole grain pasta in my pantry, my newly discovered farro spaghetti stood out. It had a delectable mild flavor, with an ever-so-elegant starchiness, and was nicely chewy in a perfect al dente way. In short, this pasta had the right mouthfeel. But first and foremost I remember detecting my favorite childhood spice: a precious hint of cinnamon. I was hooked, and I have since learned that others share my belief that farro makes the best pasta.
The deliciousness of farro pasta has, of course, to do with the grain it is made from. Italians typically lump three ancient grains of the wheat family together when they use the term farro. Most often, the farro cultivated in Italy is emmer. So it is no surprise that the flavor of the grain is faintly reminiscent of wheat, yet its chewiness is more graceful. Unlike wheat, farro kernels have a plump starchiness that adds mightily to their appeal. In this characteristic, they most closely resemble barley. But while barley has a distinct and delicious earthiness, farro has a dainty yet pronounced sweetness that makes it very agreeable. It helps that farro comes to us from Italy. With our adoration for that country’s ethereal cuisine, anything from Italy tastes good, doesn’t it? No wonder farro has nestled onto our plates and has become the hipster of grains.
Another reason for the grain’s claim to fame is its amazing versatility. Its beautiful lush kernels are a boon to comforting soups and stews (see Mediterranean Mussels with Farro and White Wine). It lends itself as a side to a juicy slab of meat such as steak or chicken, and is equally ambrosial in a warming breakfast cereal (see Creamy Farro with Honey-Roasted Grapes). Risotto made from farro, be it with mushrooms or spring-fresh asparagus, adds a new dimension to this alluring dinner favorite.
Finding the cinnamon-brown grain berries on store shelves has become much easier. But you might still find yourself in a dizzying maze trying to investigate what you actually ate, let alone whether it was a whole grain. In my pantry, my personal favorites are shifting faster than the seasons. Currently, I’m smitten by tiny dark brown farro piccolo, grown in the United States, delectably plump, fast cooking, and truly sublime. But then, only a few weeks ago, I salivated over larger kernels of whole grain emmer farro. And, well, not so long ago, I slurped up a stew with an Italian semipearled farro, also of the emmer variety. Do I need to say how supremely balmy it was? All of this is farro—which means in whatever form farro lands on your plate, try it.
Chapter 6
MODERN MAINS
Afraid to fail in the kitchen? Always expecting to dish up four-star meals? Forgotten how to make something from scratch? It’s time to start experimenting. Be sure you fail, and more than once. Everything I know I have learned from trying and failing, trying and failing, and more of the same. Maybe it’s because I neglect to read a recipe carefully through before I start cooking (rule no. 1 of Kitchen 101). Maybe it’s because I keep thinking a little less sugar will do, or maybe it’s because I talk on the phone while sautéing onions.
But don’t allow anxiety to prevent you from experimenting at the stove. In my opinion, even a humble homemade meal always beats fast food.