Devil’s Advocate

Deviled eggs are the ultimate in classy party food. With the air of high society and the accessibility of middle class, they’re just fancy enough to pass through both worlds with equal esteem. Popularized in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, they possess a certain retro chic while remaining a timeless staple. Hosts so well equipped as to own designated deviled egg trays, dimpled with indents specifically designed to cradle the elegant halves, clearly have it together.

The Devil That You Know

For all their enduring charm, deviled eggs are ripe for reinvention. This holiday season, I’d invite you to go one step further than crafting a vegan version. Lean into vintage cocktail kitsch and a healthy dose of playful absurdity with Deviled Eggnog Jello Shots; a boozy, bite-sized tribute to tradition with a twist. Surprisingly sweet for their savory appearance, they’re the kind of festive fun that keeps guests talking long after the last toast.

Sweet, Spiked, and Surprisingly Light

Much lighter than the conventional mug of heavy cream and whole eggs, these delicate, jiggly bites could be considered a smart approach to portion control, not to mention a far healthier alternative to the former cholesterol bomb. Airy egg whites made from vegan nog, spiked with light rum for a gentle buzz, become the convincing cushion to golden turmeric-infused coconut whipped cream. The effect is complete, and completely convincing, especially when sprinkled with a touch of ground nutmeg to garnish.

Achieving Egg-celence

Before you ask, yes, it’s worth investing in an egg-shaped silicone mold. If not for this treat, consider all the other egg-centric events when it will come in handy. Sure, you can use regular old plastic shot cups, but how many opportunities do you have to go all-out? Celebrate Christmas to the fullest, treat your friends and family to a slightly eccentric sweet surprise, and indulge in a new way to nog!

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Emmer-gence

“Emmer” may not ring a bell, but I have a feeling you know more about it than you think. Just flip its name tag over to the better known moniker of farro, and it’s like we’re talking about a whole different grain. Yes, misunderstandings about the title abound, so it’s long overdue that we set the record straight. Emmer is an ancient grain that deserves a spot on every modern table.

In a Land Far, Farro Away

What’s truly wild is how few people understand what exactly farro is. Still on the fringes of mainstream grocery stores, granted, it’s not at the top of the average eater’s grocery list. Farro became trendy in the US sometime around the 90s and 00s, alongside the boom of Italian imports like balsamic vinegar and olive oil that didn’t taste like rancid gasoline. However, what makes things more confusing is that no one grain is defined as farro. Rather, there are three types of farro:

  • Farro grande; spelt
  • Farro piccolo; einkorn
  • Farro medio; emmer

Emmer is the grain most commonly referred to as farro, when no other qualifiers can be found. Farro wheat, which is also classified as durum wheat, is defined by the way it grows, with two rows of grain on opposite sides of a single stalk.

Conveniently, Grand Teton Ancient Grains sells all three types, so you can see (and taste) the difference for yourself!

Emmer Through the Ages

Botanical semantics out of the way, emmer is one of the preeminent whole grains. Known as “Mother Wheat,” it was one of the first grains to be domesticated in the Near East over 10,000 years ago. A staple crop in ancient Israel and Egypt, it spread to Italy following the Roman invasion around 50 BCE, where it took root in the culture and remains a top crop to this day. The rest of Europe developed a taste for this high-protein whole grain as well, especially when it comes to bread making in Germany and Switzerland. It’s also a crucial ingredient in Ethiopia, where it’s enjoyed primarily as a hot porridge.

Emmer Is Good Eats

Flavor always comes first in my kitchen, which is why emmer has become a fast favorite around here, too. Nutty and complex, there’s a subtle taste that reminds me of fresh almonds when cooked, adding a gently sweet finish that tastes both honeyed and malted. Chewy and robust, the whole wheat berry stands up well to long-simmered soups and stews, never falling apart under pressure. That also makes it an excellent addition to salads, both hot and cold, and keeps beautifully for meal prep and travel. When ground into flour, it makes silky smooth batters, though it can create denser breads due to a lesser gluten content, compared to modern wheat varieties.

Nutritional Benefits for People and the Planet

Prized for its ability to thrive in poor soils and harsh climates, emmer is beloved by farmers as a sustainable superstar. It generally needs fewer chemical inputs like fertilizers and pesticides, and is more drought-tolerant than modern wheat. As beneficial to the planet as the people that eat it, consumers can reap the rewards of many trace minerals in every serving, including iron, zinc, magnesium, and niacin. It’s high in protein and fiber, making it a satisfying foundation to any meal. Being that it is a form of wheat, however, it is not gluten-free, and not appropriate for those with celiac disease. Some who are merely intolerant report better digestibility, since it has less gluten than conventional wheat varieties.

Emmer Everyday, in All the Ways

Is there anything that emmer can’t do? Found across cultures and continents, whole and ground, there’s always a place for it at the table.

  • Soups and stews: Perhaps best known in Tuscan zuppa di farro, these sturdy whole grains are the ideal swap for pasta in any minestrone, Italian wedding soup, cacio e pepe, and so much more.
  • Risotto: As a modern twist to the traditional rice dish, farrotto is just plain fun to say. Some renditions favor cracked or pearled emmer for their faster cooking times, and/or soak them in advance to help expedite the process.
  • Salads and pilafs: Served hot, at room temperature, or fully chilled, emmer won’t let you down at dinnertime. Pair it with hearty roasted vegetables or delicate leafy greens and fresh herbs
  • Breads: In India, the flour is known as khapli wheat and is favored for making whole grain roti, dosa, and paratha. Aish baladi, a flatbread very similar to pita, is an core Egyptian delicacy, frequently stuffed or torn into piece for dipping. European loaves often combine it with a sourdough starter for greater loft and nuanced flavor.
  • Sweets: Treats like cookies, pie dough, muffins, cakes, pancakes, and more can all benefit from an emmer underpinning. Dense like most whole wheat flours, it adds heft and a hearty bite, balanced nicely by sugar, and especially the addition of spice.
  • Porridge and hot cereal: Cooked either whole or coarsely ground, emmer makes an excellent breakfast meal. Depending on your preferences, it can be served with savory additions like chickpeas and za’atar, or sweet finishes like fresh berries and maple syrup.
  • Beer and spirits: Though a bit tricky to find in the US, emmer beer has been a brewer’s best friend for millennia. Emmer beer was once one of the healthiest ways to hydrate, before the days of clean water and further filtration. Some distillers take it a step further to make emmer whiskey, though the rarity of those bottles drives a considerable price tag. 

Other notable traditional dishes that defy easy categorization include torta a farro, a savory cake reminiscent of a frittata, arancini di farro, favoring emmer in the typical deep-fried rice ball, and adjar pilaf, an Armenian side dish with mushrooms and onions.

Cooking Tips and Tricks

Whole emmer wheat berries are incredibly forgiving when it comes to cooking. Treat them like beans for the best results; use plenty of water, simmer low and slow, and drain off the excess. Of course, you can always speed things up with a little help from your trusty pressure cooker.

  • On the stove top, start by rinsing 1 cup of whole emmer wheat berries under cold water to remove any dust or debris. Then, place them in a pot with about 3 cups of water and a pinch of salt. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer. Cover the pot and let it cook for 45 – 60 minutes, or until the grains are tender but still chewy. If you’re using pearled emmer, the cooking time may be closer to 25 – 30 minutes. Once cooked, drain any excess liquid and fluff the grains with a fork.
  • In a pressure cooker, combine 1 cup of rinsed emmer wheat berries with 2 1/2 cups of water and a pinch of salt. Seal the lid and cook on high pressure for 20 – 25 minutes (or 12 – 15 minutes for pearled). Allow the pressure to release naturally for 10 minutes, then release any remaining pressure manually. Drain any excess liquid if needed, and the grains are ready to use.

Enjoy your emmer right away while still hot, or let cool completely, then store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for 5 – 7 days. Consider keeping it in the freezer for long-term storage, up to 6 months, if you’d rather make bigger batches at a time.

Kasha is Out, Emmer is In

With Hanukkah looming right around the corner, Jewish comfort food has been top of mind. Kasha varnishkes aren’t making headlines like latkes and brisket, though they’re just as welcome at the holiday feast as they are on the average, everyday dinner table. “Kasha” means buckwheat and “varnishkes” refers to noodles, typically bow-tie shaped pasta, AKA farfalle in this case, fully explaining the simplicity and universal appeal of the dish. Bolstered by caramelized onions, the earthy whole grains add a comforting weight to al dente semolina pasta. It’s a beloved comfort food of Eastern European Jews through the generations. My unconventional suggestion is to drop the bitter buckwheat in favor of subtly sweet emmer berries.

Emmer Varnishkes are my contribution to the culinary canon. While buckwheat has its own old world charm, it tends to skew more bitter, grassy, and sometimes as earthy as a whole barnyard. The mild sweetness of emmer melds effortlessly with the richness of the dish, bringing out the complex chestnut and freshly popped popcorn notes. The key is to toast the emmer before simmering lightly salted stock, enhancing the naturally nutty flavor locked within. Then, perfectly befitting of the holiday, instead of schmaltz, olive oil honors the Hanukkah miracle, all while adding a peppery brightness.

Far-Out Emmer

If you’re a fan of farro, guess what? You’re already on board with emmer. Next time you see “farro” on a menu or in a recipe, you’ll know the story runs deeper than a trendy grain bowl. Emmer has nourished civilizations for thousands of years, and it’s still feeding our curiosity, and our appetites, today. Whether simmering in a soup pot, baked into bread, or starring in your next grain salad, there’s still so much more to discover with this ancient grain.

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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.

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Pot Roast with the Most

Any brisket could be pot roast, but not all pot roasts are brisket. Confused yet? Once and for all, to set the record straight:

Brisket is a specific cut of meat. Pot roast is a method of preparation.

This is what I tell myself, as if it was that neat and clean, but the truth is the lines are blurry and overlapping, especially depending on who you ask. Brisket can become a pot roast if you toss it into a slow cooker, drowning it in broth and aromatics until it practically shreds itself. You could call that a Jewish pot roast with ease, but a born-and-bred Texan might run you right out of town for that declaration. In these parts, brisket must be smoked low and slow over dry heat, not stewed into oblivion.

Hot Take for a Hot Pot

In the spirit of the holidays, let’s just say that everyone’s right. Let’s put down the pitch forks and pick up the dinner forks, shall we? I made a more conventional take on a vegan holiday brisket last year, which I still consider one of my crowning culinary achievements. This time around, to make something I could classify as a pot roast, I thought it was high time to examine the meat of the matter.

Hen-of-the-Woods in Every Pot

Now, the star of the show isn’t seitan, but mushrooms. Big, feathery clusters of maitake, also called hen-of-the-woods, with their wild, ruffled edges and umami depth that’s downright meaty, maintain a distinctly fibrous yet tender texture, not unlike shredded beef. The protein not the cut for pot roast is a crucial element of what makes the dish, which is why it translates so seamlessly to a plant-based table.

Marvels of Maitake

I used dried maitake here not just for their concentrated flavor or long shelf life, though both are undeniable perks, but because they’re the embodiment of wealth and abundance for me. Every fall, my mom forages them from the wilderness of suburban Connecticut, scouring the base of old oaks with the focus of a seasoned treasure hunter. She dries them carefully, filling mason jars and brown paper bags with feathery clusters that smell like the forest floor after rain. Rehydrated, they spring back to life with even more intensity, deep and woodsy with a hint of smoke. You could substitute roughly a pound of fresh maitake if you don’t have that same incredible fortune.

A Pot Roast by Any Other Name

Somewhere, a food purist is clutching their pearls, muttering about prime cuts and the Maillard reaction. They’ll say it’s not a roast if it doesn’t begin with marbled beef and end in pan drippings. But when I press a spoon against a tender heap of maitake mushrooms that have been stewed into supple submission, bathed in onion-y gravy and served alongside carrots and potatoes that melt in you mouth, I’m not thinking about taxonomy. I’m thinking about warmth, comfort, and how the house smells like the Hanukkahs of my childhood.

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