In a Loaf Far, Farro Away

Whole wheat bread is out; farro bread is in. As we turn the pages to a new calendar year, it’s time for a fresh start, and a new approach to ancient grains.

When “Whole Wheat” Isn’t the Whole Story

Technically speaking, farro also qualifies as “whole wheat”, and more specifically, three types of whole wheat, as we touched upon when discussing emmer, the most popular type of farro. However, generic “whole wheat bread” most likely employs hard red wheat, which makes up approximately 40% of total U.S. wheat production. Nutty, robust, and high in protein, it’s no mystery why it became the poster child for wholesome baking, particularly following the counterculture movement of the 1970s, rejecting the processed white loaves proliferating on grocery store shelves. At the same time, it became the sworn enemy of many children bringing packed lunches to school, discovering those dark, dense, and bitter slabs imprisoning wan fillings, bereft of all fun. Whole wheat had soured many generations on the idea of a more wholesome loaf.

In an attempt to elevate the profile (and gluten structure) of whole wheat bread, many brands started producing “whole grain” bread, which was mostly white bread with a bit of color. The fact that they included any meager amount of whole grains gave them the legal grounds to use the label, much to the detriment of flavor and nutrition. If you ask me, they just started out by using the wrong whole wheat all along.

Farro For All

Farro bread isn’t something you’re likely to find in stores, nor is farro flour. That’s where Grand Teton Ancient Grains comes in. They have all three types of farro in stock; einkorn, emmer, and spelt. Better yet, you can grab a bag of ready-milled all-purpose einkorn flour so you can start preheating the oven that much sooner. Buying in bulk does make a compelling case for having your own grain mill, though, especially for breaking down those whole spelt berries. Consider it the best gift you didn’t get for the holidays and treat yourself to a better New Year.

Unlike modern hard red wheat, which has been bred for high yields, consistent protein levels, and machine-friendly milling, farro varieties hold on to traits that industrial agriculture left behind. Emmer and einkorn, for example, have naturally higher levels of carotenoids, which contribute to their flaxen color and subtle sweetness. Spelt tends to be more water-soluble, which is why dough made with it can feel slack even when the protein percentage looks high on paper. Their husked kernels also protect the grain from environmental stress, which is great for biodiversity but makes them harder to process. Grand Teton Ancient Grains is keeping history alive by putting these grains back on the table. You can truly taste that difference.

The Farro Trifecta in Action

All-purpose einkorn flour is the key to success. Soft as freshly fallen snow, it lightens the crumb both in texture and color, not to mention that stunning golden hue it imparts. Edging in on brioche territory, you’d think there was egg in the mix for all its richness. To that majority component, whole spelt flour adds an earthy undertone, grounding the flavor with notes of toasted walnuts and a subtle minerality. Most noticeable, whole cooked emmer berries are woven throughout the crumb, stealing the spotlight with their irresistibly chewy, hearty texture that adds a satisfying heft to every bite.

Altogether, it’s sturdy enough to slice thinly for sandwiches, and still soft enough to cut into thick slabs for dunking into soups, or simply eating plain. Truth be told, I ate roughly 75% of this particular loaf untoasted and unadorned, aside from the thinnest glaze of vegan butter smeared on top.

Rave-Worthy Results

I’m terminally intolerant of breathless hyperbole, deliberately honing my praise to a more reasonable tenor, but this one is hard to be modest about. Of all the loaves I’ve made, this is honestly one of my top five favorites, at least. Maybe even top three, but I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. It’s just as easy to whip up as any other humble sandwich bread, while having nuanced, complex flavor that you’d think could only come from a 24- or 36-hour ferment.

Better Living Through Baking

Make your New Year’s resolution to bake more bread from scratch. It’s a tangible, achievable goal with myriad benefits for health, sustainability, frugality, and honestly, happiness. Even on my worst days, a slice of warm farro bread has never failed to buoy my spirits.

Continue reading “In a Loaf Far, Farro Away”

Pinwheeling and Dealing

Is it pure coincidence that one of my favorite holiday cookies is synonymous with joy, new beginnings, and good fortune? Sugar cookies, with their latticework icing and shimmering sprinkles, may get the spotlight on the main stage, but I’d like to pitch pinwheel cookies as the true headliners of any cookie tray. Pinwheels are said to symbolize turning bad luck into good, of transitioning from old to new, and what could be better as we round out the year, doing our best to close it out with a sweet taste lingering on our tongues?

Spinning together two sheets of soft dough, the most common duo tends to be peppermint and chocolate, for obvious reasons. I have trouble resisting the pair myself, often thinking back to my very favorite episode of Alton Brown’s Good Eats, where I first learned of this edible art form. Utterly captivated, I watched The Cookie Clause more times than I can count. All through the holiday season, those spiral cookies would play across my tiny bedroom TV, morning or night, and I remained glued to the screen as ever.

I’ve made a few spirals since then, including a summery strawberry version that ended up in the pages of My Sweet Vegan and then Sweet Vegan Treats. However, compared to the myriad cookies I crank out every year, and especially as Christmas draws ever closer, it’s not nearly often enough. To remedy that, I’m swirling warmly spiced gingerbread, ever the wintry classic, with bright lemon cookie dough, enriched with tangy cream cheese and a heavy dose of fresh lemon zest. Yes, I’m currently obsessed with everything lemon thanks to the bounty of my very own beautiful Meyer lemon tree, but that’s a story for another post.

Don’t be daunted by the length of the recipe. Though more involved than your average drop cookie, they save you all the time and hassle of decorating afterwards. Slicing the logs into rounds to reveal the pattern within makes all the planning and prep worthwhile. Pinwheel cookies come out of the oven fully realized as beautiful, rave-worthy gems, the likes of frosting or sanding sugar would only besmirch.

Plan ahead for the greatest success. The considerable downtime between steps makes these anything but fast food. Fortunately, you can press pause and play in the middle of the process, even more easily than on a recording of that beloved TV episode. Tightly wrapped, the dough can keep in the refrigerator for 3 – 5 days and up to 6 months in the freezer. You can slice just a few at a time to always have freshly baked cookies ready at will.

Simultaneously combining gingerbread and lemon in a harmonious pairing, while keeping them separate enough to appreciate each flavor individually, these pinwheel cookies are the best of all worlds. I’m not sure if Alton Brown would be impressed, but I know that my teen-aged self, once drooling over the untouchable idea of such baking artistry, would be proud.

Continue reading “Pinwheeling and Dealing”

Red Rum

Night fell in layers, each one heavier than the last, the overhead sky black as spilled ink overhead. Thunder cracked like a shotgun as I pulled the cake from the oven, its intoxicating aroma curling through the air, whispering sweet secrets all through the house. Somehow sinister, with a boozy undertone, it clung to the air like ghosts to a grudge.

Red velvet cake has a dark side, you know. It’s not all cheery hues of crimson, especially when you take a more natural approach. Baked as a bundt, it takes the shape of a crown, denoting where it falls in the cake hierarchy, or so it would like to believe. Hard edges fall away to dense, moist crumb within, scented with rum, cocoa, and vanilla, luminously red as freshly spilled blood.

Though tame compared to the edible gore of previous years, the wickedly vivid, high-gloss drizzle turned out even better than expected. While it sets to an almost invisible gloss around each crenelation, it bleeds into the cake’s center with theatrical flair. Slice right away and you’ll have a glistening scarlet pool that spills onto the plate.

Pair thick, soft slices with jet black coffee or spiced cider, though it really comes alive alongside a dark rum cocktail, echoing the warmth that hides just beneath its brooding exterior. It has a haunting warmth that burns low and slow; comforting, but also cautionary. Too much of it, and things start to blur around the edges.

All work and no play makes for a dull baker. When I invite you to indulge, I don’t just mean in sugar and flour. Bake something that stains the plate red. Bake something that bites back.

Continue reading “Red Rum”

Buckle Up, Peanut Butter Cup

Homemade Halloween candy is fun and all, but let’s be honest: there’s not a single trick-or-treater on the streets getting that kind of plunder. This stuff, the good stuff, is reserved for more appreciative palates. Let’s cut to the chase and make a treat just for us older children here. No finicky caramelization, no individual wrappers, just a supersized version of a classic that doesn’t hold back.

Hauntingly Delicious

Year after year, polls show that peanut butter cups are the runaway favorite candy for little goblins and gremlins to nab on their sugar-crazed stroll. Taking the #1 spot for at least 40 states, that’s the most unanimous vote to come from the US since George Washington’s election. Riding the coattails of that cult classic, my jumbo Crunchy Peanut Butter Cup Torte is intentionally designed to hit all those same crowd-pleasing, nostalgic flavor notes in a more shareable format.

At least, I really hope you’ll share. If a sleeve of standard cups could send the average child into a sugar-induced frenzy for a solid hour, more than one slice could rocket them straight to the moon. Dark chocolate ganache helps temper the sweetness, capping off a center of buttery peanut mousse, creating a dangerously balanced duo that could lure unsuspecting eaters into overindulgence. Crunchy peanut butter effortlessly adds a contrasting textural element to make every bite seem novel and exciting, only adding to the risk. Maybe I should have called it “Peanut Butter Peril Pie” instead? Catchy, yes, but descriptive, not so much.

A Slice Of Life

Classic peanut butter cups deserve that hat tip in the title. Beyond the helpful reference point, it’s hard to imagine Halloween without them. That said, hand out whatever you want for those wretched door knockers (potatoes are surprisingly popular, too); save these slices for the real party.

Continue reading “Buckle Up, Peanut Butter Cup”

Catcher In The Rye

I’ve always envied those with a strong culinary heritage. My own origins are as murky as they are unexciting, with food appearing as a bit player, never the star. When asked, my general response is that I’m a European mutt, maybe Russian at most, or Ukranian, or German, or Austrian, or…

Clues are scant and hard to verify. There are stories, like family lore, that could be as close to fact as fairy tales. Anyone with the truth is long gone. The best evidence I have are photos, especially of my dad’s side, seen through a Kodaslide, illuminating the past in every sense of the word. Seen in 3D, there’s my teenaged grandparents at the pool, my dad and aunt as toddlers dressed in some unfortunate plaid jumpsuits, my other aunt as a child running away from what seems like a dead body lying in the grass; some of these moments in time raise more questions than answers.

My Great Grandmother May, Circa 1955

Naturally, I’m most drawn to images depicting holidays and dinner parties, the grand celebrations and feasts of yore. There, I can’t help but notice the towers of bread, stacked instead of splayed, like two pillars a the center of the table. Though it’s hard to identify much else, I know this for sure: it’s rye bread on display.

It turns out, I’m like rye bread. Any number of countries could claim it as their own, offering compelling facts to make the case. In Scandinavia, you’ll find sweet and crisp rye breads like the Finnish rye and the crispbreads of Sweden, Norway, and Denmark. Eastern Europe, particularly Russia and the Baltics, is known for its dark, dense, and intensely flavored rye breads. Germany has a wide range of rye breads, from the robust and complex to the rich and varied, with Vollkornbrot being especially popular. Other notable rye breads include the tender and piquant rye of Southern Poland, the aromatic and flavorful rye of Bavaria, Switzerland, Austria, and Italy, and the rustic French-style Tourte de Seigle. In essence, rye bread is also a European mutt.

Jewish rye bread, lightly sour, sweet, and flecked with caraway seeds, is the food of my people. Marbled loaves especially have held a certain undeniable allure, rippled with undulating waves of dark, cocoa-tinted dough. I’ve long promised myself I’d make a loaf of my own, and so, for this World Bread Day, I finally have.

Banner World Bread Day, October 16, 2025

Of course, as you probably already guessed, I couldn’t simply pander to tradition to recreate what’s already been done millions of times before. Mine is a triple take on the concept, weaving in an even darker braid dyed with edible charcoal for maximum impact. Looking like a streaky challah, the tender yet dense texture evokes the best parts of a brioche and a pullman loaf combined. There’s a uniquely savory edge thanks to the distinctive seasonings and earthy whole grain flours, making its thick slices the ideal end caps to any deli sandwich.

Happea Vegans Not Yo Mami Pastrami on Rye

Other recipes will advise that caraway seeds are polarizing and thus optional. This is true, and I’d never look down on someone who wasn’t a fan. That said, I will advise that this is my recipe, and for me, they are not. Want a simple rye bread without seasonings or inclusions? Want to skip the different colors, the braiding and waiting, the long prep time to make that distinctive final swirl? That’s perfectly fine. That’s not this recipe.

Like the story behind rye bread itself, layered, winding, and shaped by time, my journey has led to something uniquely mine. I can’t recreate the original exactly, but I can honor its spirit. This rye bread is my version, rooted in tradition, but entirely my own.

Continue reading “Catcher In The Rye”

Eat Like a King

It’s not a descendant of royalty and there’s no ranch dressing involved, so what on earth is a King Ranch Casserole? After making it, eating it, and researching it, I’m still coming up short on conclusive answers.

Introduced to me through an upcoming article for Vegan Journal, Lauren Bernick‘s plant-based, oil-free, whole-foods version is likely a far cry from the original, but I’d venture to say that’s a good thing. Composed primarily of condensed cream soups, tortilla chips, and chicken, it was borne of an era before nutritional awareness. It’s true origins remain murky, but we can say with conviction that it came from post war 1950’s home cooks, when canned goods were all the rage. As for the name, less is certain. King Ranch was and still is one of the largest ranches in the United States, but no one there claims this creation as their own. There’s zero connection to be found between the ranch and the hot dish.

Not particularly regal and downright messy, in the best kind of way, the only royal decree here seems to be “thou shalt cover all things in cheese and cream.” Tossing out the dairy-laden canned soups and poultry scraps in favor of fresh, plant-based ingredients, what remains is a vibrant, deeply satisfying savory entree that hits all the right notes of cozy, comforting, and hearty, while staying firmly on the side of health-conscious. It’s the kind of meal you can prep ahead for a busy week, serve to unsuspecting omnivores, or curl up with on a blustery night.

My version is just a small variation from Lauren’s, but one I’ve come to make and serve repeatedly, with resounding success. Don’t expect a crown jewel, but do expect requests for second helpings.

Continue reading “Eat Like a King”