I'm starting to understand why my grandma used to make dinner so early. I'd come home from school and she'd already be cooking by 3 p.m. It wasn't because she was cooking anything that complex or time consuming, half the time it was because it was just nice not to start cooking at 5 or…
I keep the weather in other cities on my phone just to torture myself. Right now the line up is: home, Victoria, BC; San Francisco; Sydney; San Diego; Denver; and Arezzo. We went to Italy two years ago and Arezzo still hasn’t been deleted from the list. It’s in the low 90s, high 80s this week in Arezzo, just a tad too hot, but still the idea of sitting out under a pergola, looking out into a valley in Tuscany as the sun dips beneath the horizon, sipping a little pinot grigio, with a little antipasti…well, that sounds like dinner.
The first step in this recipe is pour yourself a glass of wine. Or at the very least, a glass of patience. But seriously, wine I have more of, patience, not so much. I'll just give it to you straight. Farro is an ancient grain, and it's not going gently into that dark night. It'll…
When I was in high school, my best friend from elementary school dated a guy called Farro. By that time, we went to different schools, so I only met him once and I think we had dinner at his family's restaurant. Maybe my memory isn't what it used to be, but I'm pretty sure Farro wasn't his real name, and now that I've made the grain, I'm dying to know how Farro ends up being your nickname. Is it a diminutive of something like Bobby is for Robert? Or are you just nutty? Are you hard-headed? I don't know. But unlike quinoa, which I find just ok (and not a good nickname), I like farro's heft. That chewy bite, even after 30 or 40 minutes of cooking, with a nutty flavor - I like it. And after this salad, I'm excited to try making a risotto -- a farrotto -- out of it.
