Oh, Farro, Farro. Where art thou Farro?
I have checked in Whole Foods. I have checked the markets. I have checked Amazon for god’s sake, Farro! (Okay, Okay, I found Farro on Amazon, but I simply refuse to pay that shipping cost.)

Recently, I’ve been on a new grain kick, trying all those ambiguous and formerly “dis-gusting“ food sources. Barley, millet, quinoa, bulgar… grains, blasé to some, are new and exciting to me and I’m having quite a time cooking up new recipes and feeling rather healthy and nutritious. My white whale, however, is farro.
I really want to try this grain. Firstly, I wanted to try the recipe for farro with green onion sauce in Heidi’s book, Super Natural Cooking. Secondly, (okay, this is really firstly, but I don’t want to seem like some kind of geek that lives and breathes ancient Roman history) farro was the “grain of the legions.” How cool is that? Thirdly, I simply want to try it, and once I get something in my head, it’s hard to forget about it, even if things become bleak.
I can’t find farro at Whole Foods, and Whole Foods has everything. I’m hoping that there’s a bag somewhere, eluding me on some odd shelf. Princeton rocks at having the odd, hippy-healthy food items, so it’s not encouraging that I haven’t located farro yet, but I’ll keep plugging away (ordering from Amazon if I really, really have to.)
In the meantime, I tackled Heidi’s recipe using pearl barley instead of farro. I tweaked the recipe to include some extra creme fraiche and took out the lemon and walnuts, creating a more savory-flavored dish. By all means, though, go to her site and try the real deal before mine—it’s delicious and fresh.

Farro Barley with Asparagus and Green Onion Sauce
adapted from Heidi Swanson’s Super Natural Cooking
- 5 cups beef stock
- 2 cups barley, picked over and rinsed
- 1 pound asparagus, snapped and cut into ¼ inch slices
- 1 Tbsp olive oil
- 12 green onions, roughly chopped
- Salt & Pepper to taste
- 4 oz. creme fraiche
- Freshly grated Parmesan cheese
- Chopped green onion
- Bring stock and barley to a simmer in a dutch oven, reduce heat, cover, and cook until barley is nearly ready (about 30 minutes), add asparagus and cook for another 5 or so minutes, or until asparagus is tender.
- Meanwhile, pour olive oil in small saucepan and add green onions. Cook for 5-10 minutes or until onions are tender. Remove from heat, placing onions in a bowl. If you have a hand blender, blend for a minute or two to mash up some (but not all) of the onions into a sauce, otherwise pulse a food processor.
- When barley/asparagus is ready, combine with onions. Add creme fraiche, salt, and pepper. Serve with a garnish of parm and green onions.
















It’s understandable (or am I just crazy?), since a lot of food publications and even some food shows assume that a person has some (even if it is a small) understanding of the cooking process before they try single-handly to make every recipe they can find in Gourmet or Bon Apetit. Until I realized that I would need to research and educate myself in cooking basics before diving in with the big-leaguers, I had many unhappy afternoons of wilted souffles and charred chicken. So, before long, I became obsessed with Rachael Ray. I watched 30 minute-meals practically everyday and bought many of her cookbooks. She provided easy and interesting recipes and, more importantly, none of that “gourmet” talk of roux or clafoutis, or really anything more complicated than a one (or two)-pot dinner. Rachael Ray nevered expects me to know even the basics of cooking before hitting her kitchen, which is why she spends the entire length of her show gabbing away. It’s gaurenteed she’ll tout the benefits of barbage bowls and healthy doses of EVOO each episode, becoming quite annoying, but we have to give her credit for never confusing the clumsy cook. That said, it takes a dedicated amateur cook only so long before they need to move on, and though I still consider myself a clumsy cook (with the scars to prove it), I had taken to scoffing at Rachael, her easy one-pot laughable dinners, while I slaved over recipes by Daniel Bolud and Thomas Keller, all of them involving hours of sweat and tears. I let my Rachael Ray cookbooks grow rather dusty on the bookshelf.