I don’t know what made me pick up that silo’s worth of Farro the other day at Costco. Maybe I was high on life with the mozzarella samples. Maybe after seeing that pallet of fiber bars, this duffel bag of Farro looked small. I just don’t know.
As it turns out, my husband’s complaints about my shopping habits are not unfounded. Who knew?
So, once I got home and set up that Farro dispensary in the garage, I knew I needed to figure out how to cook it.
If you haven’t had Farro (pronounced FAHR-oh), I can only characterize it as a nutty rice with a shorter cooking time. Kind of like Aunt Gloria. Plus, it’s full of fiber. Kind of like Aunt Gloria.
So, this recipe comes from farro.ca “Your Canadian Authority on Imported Italian Emmer Wheat”, which just further goes to prove my theory that there ARE jobs out there, people, you just aren’t looking in the right places.
After recovering from the shock of actually having every single one of these ingredients on hand, I made this:
- 4 cups semi-pearled Farro, cooked
- 1/2 cup sun dried tomatoes, julienned
- 1/2 cup black olives, sliced
- 1/4 cup cilantro
- 1/4 cup salmoriglio olive oil (I don’t know who Sal Moriglio is, but I figured he’s probably friends with Bertolli so I went with it. Italy’s a small place, you know.)
- 1 tsp. balsamic vinegar
- 1/2 tsp. salt
Assemble all the ingredients as you would a salad and allow the flavours to be absorbed by the Farro. It may be necessary to “refresh” the salad the next day with some vinegar and seasoning. (yields: 5-6 cups)
I only made one cup of Farro and pared down the other ingredients to match.
Now, I’ll be the first to tell you I can’t cook. My kids will come in a close second. But I must say this dish made me question my heritage. I swear there’s an Italian grandma out there kissing her fingers right now saying, “Mama Mia! It’sa ’bout timea my little bambina Bobbi Joa discovered Farro!” Or something like that. Harboring no illusions that I’ll ever be the food reviewer for the New York Times, I’ll just say: It was goooood.
If you want to try it, but are afraid to invest in a grain bin’s worth of Farro, let me know. I might be able to spare a cup … in exchange for another trip to Costco, that is.