This week I achieved a personal milestone- one that can only signal I’ve reached full adulthood at age 32. I haven’t gotten married, or had kids, or moved out of my shared bachelorette pad. I’m in fact no closer to doing any of these things than I was last week or, quite frankly, 2 years ago. But what I have done, readers, is purchase my first real (i.e. not from Ikea) mattress.

I have learned a few lessons throughout this bed- and mattress-buying process that I’d like to pass along to you, since I know you didn’t come here for another grain salad recipe (or did you?). First, buying a mattress is a lot like buying a used car (I don’t own a car but I’ve heard what it’s like to buy one so I’m comfortable throwing this analogy around). The salesperson makes you feel kind of weird and nothing actually costs what it says it does. My mattress, which I think is a real beauty, not to mention a complete steal, cost about 1/3 of what it said on the sticker because I told Mike at Mattress Firm that that’s what I wanted to pay for it. I’m usually very uncomfortable with confrontation and bargaining but this seems to be what you need to do if you are buying a mattress in-person. Also, being okay with briefly lying on a cesspool of germs that countless others before you have also rolled around on.

The second lesson I learned is one I can tie back to cooking. I am typically a very thorough person. I like to research things. The level of joy I get from planning the minute details of a vacation is, I believe, unique to me. However, there’s a blind spot when it comes to reading recipes through before I go to the grocery store. Approximately one in three times I attempt to cook from a recipe, I realize halfway through that I’m missing something. Sometimes it’s a particular pan. Sometimes it’s a recipe inside of a recipe that takes 3 days to make. Similarly, I bought a new bed and simply assumed it would be a certain height off the ground. Well, it’s not. And unfortunately, because I do not have the luxury of space, I sleep atop an intricate web of storage containers, extra bedding, off-season clothing and even a few gallons of leftover paint. So, hit me up if you know where to find discrete bed risers.

Okay, okay. The grain salad. I like them a lot- this week I chowed down on an improvised late-summer farro number that’s like tabbouleh but without the parsley. This one is a little more thoughtful, and slightly more indulgent, with a dressing that’s not just lemon and olive oil. It’s also kind of seasonally agnostic, which I like, so you can start eating now and stop never. I also want to point out that although the recipe calls for “semi-pearled farro” that you then run through a food processor to break down, I found it really difficult to do this. My farro was holding strong against those blades. And also, it’s really hard to tell what kind of farro you’re buying. So I’d recommend basically ignoring this part of the recipe, buying whatever kind of farro you can find or you like, and just cooking it according to package instructions. The point of a grain salad is to not overthink.

With that festive sendoff, Happy Labor Day and see you next week!

Cracked Farro and Broccoli Salad

Category: Salad

Servings: Serves 4

Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup semi-pearled farro
  • Kosher salt
  • 1 large egg yolk
  • 3 drained oil-packed anchovy fillets
  • 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
  • 2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
  • 1/2 teaspoon sugar
  • 1/4 teaspoon Dijon mustard
  • 2 garlic cloves, peeled, divided
  • 1/4 cup vegetable oil
  • 6 tablespoons olive oil, divided
  • 1 teaspoon dried oregano
  • Freshly ground black pepper
  • 1/2 head of broccoli, stem peeled and trimmed, very thinly sliced lengthwise on a mandoline
  • 1/2 small red onion, very thinly sliced, rinsed, patted dry
  • 1 Persian cucumber, sliced ¼ inch thick
  • 2 Fresno chiles, thinly sliced
  • 1/4 cup oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
  • 1 cup mint leaves
  • 5 radishes, thinly sliced
  • 2 oz. young Pecorino, shaved

Instructions

  1. Pulse farro in a food processor until about half of the grains are cracked, about 1 minute. Cook farro in a medium pot of boiling salted water until al dente, 10–15 minutes. Drain and rinse under cold water. Spread out on a plate and chill.
  2. Meanwhile, blend egg yolk, anchovies, lemon juice, vinegar, sugar, mustard, and 1 garlic clove in a blender to combine. With motor running, gradually stream in vegetable oil and 4 Tbsp. olive oil and blend until dressing is emulsified and creamy, then add oregano. Season dressing with salt and pepper.
  3. Toss broccoli and remaining 2 Tbsp. olive oil in a large bowl. Finely grate remaining garlic clove; toss with broccoli. Let sit 15 minutes to let broccoli soften. Add onion, cucumber, chiles, sun-dried tomatoes, and cooled farro. Drizzle with 1/4 cup dressing and toss to coat; season with salt and pepper and add more dressing, if desired. Add mint and toss again.
  4. Serve salad topped with radishes and Pecorino.

Notes

https://www.thekitchenchronicles.com/2018/08/31/farro-and-broccoli-salad/