Between a Rock and a Hard Wheat

Whole wheat flour has an image problem. For generations of kids raised on homemade granola and natural food stores, it was the flour of dense sandwich bread, crumbly muffins, and cookies that somehow tasted healthy no matter how much sugar went into them. Going back even further in history, it was the flour of poverty, when “unrefined” stood for lower class and limited means. Whole wheat became synonymous with compromise, as though choosing more nutrition automatically meant settling for less flavor.

Hard white wheat is the solution. The first time I milled a batch of hard white wheat berries from Grand Teton Ancient Grains, I kept waiting for the familiar aroma of earthy bran rising as dark powder piled up. Instead, it smelled surprisingly sweet, with notes of fresh hay and raw almonds, pale enough that I checked the bag twice to make sure I hadn’t accidentally the wrong grain. Yet every bit of the bran and germ was still there; nothing lost and everything gained.

Just like soft white wheat, this is how white whole wheat flour is made. The difference is that hard white wheat is the stuff of lofty sandwich breads, chewy bagels, and perfectly blistered pizza crusts. If soft white wheat is the pastry specialist, hard white wheat is the bread baker’s best friend.

Asking Hard Questions About Hard Wheat

As I’ve mentioned previously, there are six classes of wheat grown in the United States, each bred with a different purpose in mind. When it comes to bread baking, the real rivalry is between hard red and hard white wheat. Both are high in protein, providing the gluten strength needed for high-rising loaves and an even, sturdy crumb. On paper, they’re remarkably similar. In the kitchen, however, they couldn’t be more different.

Hard red wheat contains higher levels of tannins and phenolic compounds in its bran, giving it the robust, nutty flavor and reddish-brown hue most people associate with traditional whole wheat flour. Its assertive character stands up beautifully to hearty recipes packed with seeds, molasses, rye, or warming spices, but it can easily dominate more delicate flavors. The bran also tends to produce denser loaves with a slightly heartier chew, accompanied by an earthy finish that can verge on subtly bitter, particularly in freshly milled flour.

Hard white wheat, by contrast, has a naturally pale bran and far fewer tannic compounds, resulting in a flour that’s lighter in color with a noticeably milder, subtly sweeter flavor. It still delivers the same strong gluten network and impressive oven spring, but the finished loaf feels lighter and more approachable. Rather than announcing itself as “whole wheat” with every bite, hard white wheat lets vegan butter taste richer, maple syrup seem sweeter, herbs stay vibrant, and spices take center stage. It’s the rare whole grain flour that wins over skeptics because it doesn’t ask them to compromise on flavor or texture.

Perhaps most importantly, opting for hard white wheat over red will never come at the expense of nutrition. Because the entire bran, germ, and endosperm remain intact, hard white wheat provides all the fiber, protein, vitamins, minerals, and naturally occurring antioxidants of a true whole grain. It simply packages those benefits in a loaf that tastes every bit as inviting as one made with refined flour, a rare case where you really can have the best of both worlds.

Cooking Whole Hard White Wheat Berries

Before reaching for the grain mill, save a few wheat berries to enjoy whole. Their pleasantly chewy texture and mild flavor make them an easy substitute for spelt, barley, or brown rice in countless recipes, while holding their shape beautifully after cooking.

  • Stovetop Method: Rinse one cup of hard white wheat berries under cool water and drain well. Soaking overnight is optional but will shorten the cooking time. Combine the wheat berries with three cups of water and a pinch of salt. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer for 60 – 75 minutes, or until tender with just a slight chew. Drain any remaining liquid and allow the grains to rest for a few minutes before serving.
  • Pressure Cooker Method: Combine one cup of rinsed wheat berries with three cups of water and a pinch of salt in an electric pressure cooker. Cook on high pressure for 35 minutes, followed by a natural pressure release. Drain if necessary before using.

Cooked wheat berries will keep in the refrigerator for up to five days or in the freezer for several months, making them an easy whole grain to prepare ahead for quick meals throughout the week.

Milling and Baking with Hard White Wheat Flour

Freshly milled flour is where hard white wheat truly shines. The natural oils in the germ begin to oxidize as soon as the grain is ground, so milling only what you need preserves its delicate aroma and full nutritional value. If you’ve only baked with commercial whole wheat flour, the difference is night and day. Fresh flour is softer, sweeter, and more fragrant, with a faint honeyed aroma that all but disappears during long term storage.

Because hard white wheat is naturally high in protein, it’s an excellent choice for yeast-raised breads, though it performs beautifully in many enriched doughs as well. Freshly milled flour absorbs slightly more liquid than conventional all-purpose flour thanks to the intact bran and germ, so don’t be surprised if your dough benefits from an extra splash of water or non-dairy milk. Given time to hydrate, it develops strong, elastic gluten matrix, capable of producing the best breads you’ve ever sunk your teeth into, toasted or not.

For the lightest crumb, many bakers allow the flour to rest with the liquid before kneading, giving the bran time to soften and reducing its tendency to interfere with gluten development. While this extra step isn’t always necessary, it can make a difference in breads made with 100% freshly milled flour.

Wheat Berry Mushroom Risotto

Traditional Uses for Hard White Wheat

With its mild flavor and exceptional gluten strength, hard white wheat is one of the most versatile bread wheats available.

As Whole Wheat Berries:

  • Grain salads with fresh or roasted vegetables, herbs, and vinaigrette
  • Pilafs and side dishes in place of rice or farro
  • Soups and hearty vegetable stews
  • Breakfast porridge (AKA cream of wheat) with fruit, cinnamon, and maple syrup
  • Risotto-style entree or side, instead of arborio rice
  • Stuffing and grain-based holiday side dishes

As Flour:

Its restrained flavor also makes it an excellent flour for recipes featuring herbs, citrus, chocolate, or warming spices, where stronger whole wheat flour can sometimes compete with the very ingredients it’s meant to support.

Whole Grain Nutrition Without Compromise

Hard white wheat proves that choosing whole grains doesn’t have to mean sacrificing flavor or texture. Because every part of the kernel remains intact, freshly milled flour retains the fiber-rich bran, nutrient-dense germ, and starchy endosperm, exactly as nature intended.

A typical 100-gram serving of hard white wheat flour provides roughly 13 grams of protein and 11 grams of dietary fiber, along with considerable amounts of iron, magnesium, phosphorus, zinc, manganese, selenium, and several B vitamins. The bran contributes antioxidants, while the germ supplies vitamin E, healthy unsaturated fats, and additional micronutrients that are typically lost during the refining process. Together, they create a flour that’s as nourishing as it is versatile.

Rolling with the Punches at the Thanksgiving Table

Inspiration rarely arrives in linear fashion. For me, it’s a collection of unrelated thoughts that bounce around in my brain until two or more unexpectedly collide. That’s the only explanation, or perhaps excuse, I have for the Honey Butter Potato Chip Rolls that are my new signature Thanksgiving side dish.

Many, many years ago, I was briefly enamored with honey butter potato chips; sweet, salty, buttery, and utterly decadent, I could compulsively eat a whole bag without stopping to breathe. Meanwhile, potato rolls have always occupied a category all their own. Pillow-soft, rich with butter, and just a little sweet, they’re the gold standard for dinner rolls. While mulling over what to do with my surplus of hard white wheat, I suddenly saw the parallels between those otherwise disparate ideas.

Mashed potatoes are responsible for the golden color and tender texture that’s so satisfying to sink your teeth into. Creating an exceptionally moist crumb that’s augmented with the floral sweetness of vegan honey or agave, that alone would make for an unforgettable dinner roll. I can’t leave well enough alone, though, going all-in with a crunchy crushed potato chip topping to adorn each bun.

The contrast is what makes them so irresistible. The top crust shatters delicately before giving way to an almost impossibly light, fluffy interior that practically melts away on your tongue. They’re equally at home mopping up excess gravy, piled high with leftover meatless roast, or simply enjoyed warm from the oven with another smear of vegan butter while no one is looking.

Soft Hearts for Hard Wheat

Every grain has its strengths, and hard white wheat has perhaps more than its fair share, at least when it comes to gluten content. It offers all the best nutritional assets of freshly milled whole wheat flour, without asking anyone to sacrifice the light, tender breads they grew up loving. If it can transform a crazy idea inspired by honey butter potato chips into a Thanksgiving tradition, imagine what it can do with your own favorite recipes.

Continue reading “Between a Rock and a Hard Wheat” →

Anything But Garden Variety

Don’t be misled by the title; there’s nothing mundane about Garden Variety by Timothy Pakron. A work of inordinate beauty, it reads as both a manifesto for home gardeners and a passionate love letter to vegetables the world over. Author of the acclaimed Mississippi Vegan cookbook and eponymous blog that started it all, Mr. Pakron has already proven his prowess in the field, both figuratively and literally.

Written with poetic flair that remains fittingly down to earth, I was already hooked by the first page. It’s clear that this book is deeply personal, the product of a life’s worth of memories, aspirations, and inspirations set to print. Presented at a time when it’s all too tempting to click “skip to recipe,” it’s the complete package, the whole story, that brings me back to this text time and again. Aside from the incredibly detailed explanation of ingredients and tips for making the most of the book, you would be missing the point to head straight to the recipe sections. Flipping past the introductory pages would be like reading only the final pages of a novel; you’ll get the point, but none of the context, character, and meaning that makes it worth reading.

Beluga Lentil Nachos

Many recipes call for components found elsewhere in the book, such as the Tahini Cheese Sauce (page 89) that makes Beluga Lentil Nachos (page 210) possible. Rather than feeling cumbersome, it feels like a satisfying way to connect the dots between ideas. Nothing exists in a vacuum, after all. Recipes build upon one another in much the same way that the garden itself does, with one harvest feeding into the next. For the same reason you would plant the three sisters (corn, beans, and squash) together, each contributes something the others need. Each component is a building block that becomes more compelling as part of a larger whole. Besides, there’s no reason not to have an easy vegan cheese sauce on hand at all time to make nachos, and more, at will.

Citrusy Beets

Plated with a chef’s eye, dishes like Citrusy Beets (page 271), look fancy, but in fact celebrate simplicity. By merely letting fresh ingredients shine, they’re naturally beautiful. Simmered directly in orange juice with plenty of zest, the citrus permeates all the way to their very core rather than simply dressing them from the outside. As they cook, they become almost buttery and impossibly tender, taking on the bright, fragrant character of the orange while retaining their deep, earthy sweetness. It’s a simple technique with a big payoff.

Okra Eggplant Étouffée

The author’s southern roots come to the surface on dishes like Okra Eggplant Étouffée (page 244), transposing shrimp and crayfish so seamlessly that it’s hard to imagine the dish was ever built differently. Despite being daunting at a glance, especially for someone inexperienced with proper Creole and Cajun cooking, the procedure unfolds easily once the spices are assembled and vegetables cut. Roasting the eggplant separately keeps it intact in the stew yet velvety on the inside, giving the edges a slightly smoky char at the same time. Having a giant pot of this stew that’s layered with such complex flavor and fluffy rice to serve with it, I feel truly rich. If there’s only one recipe you make, though that would be a terribly shortsighted thing to do, it should be this one.

Timothy Pakron

I also appreciate how there’s a section on sourdough, specifically, highlighting that fact that wild yeast is something you can grow and cultivate, too. It’s one of many details that makes Garden Variety feel like a book meant to be lived with, read cover to cover, and even kept as a coffee table art book if you should so desire. The photography is equally integral to the experience, with every page offering a breathtaking glimpse into a more holistic world to inhabit, where growing, gathering, cooking, and eating all feel like parts of the same interconnected experience, at least for a little while.

Garden Variety is a vegan cookbook that doesn’t need to broadcast the message. Its argument is intrinsic, made through abundance and the genuinely joyful sharing of food. There are no allusions to imitating or replacing meat and none are need to make the point. You don’t have to be a vegetable-lover to appreciate Garden Variety, but you will be by the time you’re through.

In Good Hands

Can vegans be cannibals? I think so. It’s not a question about flesh so much as it is ethics. Is there an ethical way to eat a human? Sure; humans can consent. Thus, theoretically, if a person said, “yes, please, you can eat my hand,” that hand is now vegan.

Don’t act like you’re shocked now. I’ve already relished meaty slices of feet, a bloody heart pulsing with flavor, and thick schmears of brain on toast. If anything, I think we have a strong moral imperative to eat our fellow human, considering how wasteful it is to let otherwise good meat rot in the ground, to say nothing of the environmental impacts. If they’ve lived a long life, I’m sure they would want us to honor that time on Earth by nourishing others.

Honestly, finding donors isn’t hard at all. You’d be amazed what people agree to everyday without reading the fine print. Every time you click “I have read and agree to the Terms & Conditions,” you’re basically one digital signature away from surrendering an appendage. In fact, it may already be too late…

Relax, you can keep your fingers this time. When I ask for a hand in the kitchen this Halloween, it’ll be to help arrange crackers around my Severed Hand Charcuterie. The horror is strictly skin deep; beneath the macabre exterior is a rich, creamy cheese ball loaded with smoky vegan bacon, pimentos, and a generous crack of black pepper. Salty ribbons of vegan prosciutto add another savory layer while giving the illusion of exposed muscle tissue, and sliced almond fingernails provide a subtle crunch, with a perfect manicure.

Since the presentation is the real feature here, I took a shortcut by using store-bought vegan cream cheese for the base. If you want to start from scratch, knock yourself out! You can also use any recipe for a vegan cheese ball instead; just make sure you end up with at least two cups of some soft vegan cheese material or else you’ll have to make a tiny baby hand. Conversely, if you’d like to make it even easier, you can snag some packaged vegan prosciutto, or any comparable cold cuts, shredded into strips.

No matter how you feel about eating animals, or humans, you’ll want to take a big slice out of this one.

Continue reading “In Good Hands” →

Gotta Khach Them All

If you’ve ever wanted to eat an entire loaf of buttered bread that’s smothered in melted cheese (and really, who hasn’t?), then khachapuri was made for you. So integral to Georgian culture that it is used as an economic indicator, known as the “khachapuri index,” its importance to the culture cannot be overstated.

Nearly every region of Georgia has its own distinct variation, but it’s the Adjarian khachapuri that’s captured the hearts, and stomachs, of intrepid eaters overseas. Almost like pizza without red sauce or cheese soup in a bread bowl, there’s no denying its universal appeal.

A Worldly Bread, Baked At Home

For years, this dish remained captive on my baking wish list. It seemed like the sort of project that called for an occasion, rather than an ordinary afternoon in the kitchen. The arrival of World Bread Day was the push I needed to make it happen. For this 21st edition, I knew exactly how to celebrate.

Whatever Floats Your Bread Boat

While Adjarian khachapuri may be the version most familiar to outsiders, it’s only one of many. Across Georgia and the surrounding Caucasus, the name encompasses a wonderfully varied collection of cheese-filled breads and pies, each with its own shape, filling, and regional identity. A few of the most distinctive include:

  • Adjarian (Acharuli): The iconic boat-shaped version from Adjara is filled with cheese and baked open-faced, then finished with a raw egg yolk and often an extra pat of butter. The egg and butter are stirred into the molten cheese before eating, with pieces of crust used for dipping.
  • Imeretian (Imeruli): The classic round, enclosed khachapuri from Imereti has a thin layer of cheese fully enclosed inside the dough and baked until golden. The filling traditionally uses Imeretian cheese, which is mild, tangy, and a bit crumbly.
  • Megrelian (Megruli): Similar to Imeretian khachapuri, this version adds cheese both inside and on top. The extra layer melts and browns in the oven, creating an especially cheesy, blistered crust.
  • Achma: Sometimes described as the Georgian answer to lasagna, this one is made from multiple thin layers of dough that are boiled, layered with cheese and butter, and baked until crisp and golden on top. Unlike the other versions, it isn’t really a stuffed bread so much as a layered cheese-and-dough casserole.
  • Gurian (Guruli): A crescent-shaped variation from Guria, traditionally filled with cheese and hard-boiled egg, it’s especially associated with Christmas and New Year’s celebrations.
  • Ossetian (Khabizgini): A round, enclosed pie filled with cheese and potato, heartier and more substantial than many other Georgian khachapuri, thanks to the extra spuds.

Not Milk?

Veganizing such a dairy-laden dish is really quite simple. A straightforward swap to plant-based milk and butter takes care of the dough without changing its essential character. To replicate the mild, salty, tangy, and slightly sour qualities of sulguni cheese, the one-two punch of mashed tofu and vegan mozzarella shreds does the trick. Plus, with the added benefit of soy protein, you can justify such an indulgence as a proper meal. At least, I like to think so.

Aquafaba takes care of the egg wash and then for the crowning jewel, I used my favorite trompe l’oeil of peeled yellow cherry tomatoes for those golden “yolks” on top. When all is said and done, you still get that gloriously gooey, cheesy, buttery bread that makes khachapuri so irresistible in the first place.

No Forks Required

Emerging from the oven puffed and deeply golden around the edges, cheese browned and bubbling in the center, it’s hot enough to scald and still impossible to let cool. I initially made the faux pas of cutting it into strips, unaware that the proper way to indulge was to dive in, hands first. Tear off a chunk of crust, drag it through all that molten goodness, and pay no mind to any greasy fingers. Khachapuri is a communal experience, where everyone can dig in together, reaching across the table to leave no corner untouched.

It’s Easy Being Cheesy

After dreaming about the pure savory decadence that is khachapuri for so long, I can unequivocally say that the reality is even better. No more difficult than your average batch of dinner rolls, such a delicacy is well within anyone’s grasp, should they be bold enough to bake it.

Continue reading “Gotta Khach Them All” →

For Crying Out Loud

Thailand is a vegan paradise any day of the year. The word “jay” (เจ) is the key that will unlock centuries of Buddhist tradition, built on the principles of compassion towards all creatures. Splashed across yellow flags, restaurant signs, market stalls, and food packages, it’s as common as seeing an “open” sign on establishments elsewhere.

During Thailand’s annual Vegetarian Festival, it’s the only game in town, transforming even the most meat-centric dishes with plant-based makeovers. Experiencing firsthand how incredible the food scene was on a random visit in January, I can’t begin to imagine such superabundance on display. It’s a dream of mine to return in time for the festivities, though I may truly eat myself to ruin, given half a chance.

Much of the attraction is the opportunity to eat traditional Thai foods that usually don’t come with a naturally vegan or vegetarian option. Something like Crying Tiger (เสือร้องไห้; Suea Rong Hai) is exactly what I would make a beeline for. As meat-centric as main dishes come, it’s essentially just grilled beef served with Nam Jim Jaew (น้ำจิ้มแจ่ว). Bold yet balanced, a riot of intense flavors, it’s a deceptively simple dish that packs a serious punch. Despite how central the beef is to the whole concept, it’s just as simple to make it meatless.

While I remain firmly grounded for this year’s Vegetarian Festival, the distance won’t stop me from getting a taste of the celebration at home. Lion’s mane mushrooms are truly the beef of the earth, capable of being compressed into outrageously decadent steaks, the likes of which could satiate the most ravenous omnivore. A hard sear and heavy weight develops a smoky, charred crust encasing a succulent and tender interior, ideal for dousing in that fiery dipping sauce for a final kiss of heat.

The name “Crying Tiger” is considerably more contested than its ingredient list. There are plenty of theories about what exactly brought those tears to the tiger’s eyes. My favorite is the most folkloric, imagining that people would come across the remains of cattle hunted by tigers, with the brisket left behind. They would take this particularly rich cut for themselves, imagining the tiger looking back in regret at the delicious morsel it had abandoned. Hopefully it’s some consolation to our tiger that there was no kill necessary to make this particular prize.

Even if you skip the entree, don’t pass on the jaew. If you make the entree, you’re best advised to double the jaew. This potent mixture of dried chiles, lime juice, toasted rice powder, and shallot is the sort of condiment that makes itself indispensable, bringing enough heat, acidity, and depth to transform whatever happens to be within dipping distance. Though it usually contains fish sauce, I find that a combination of soy sauce and tamarind fills the gap with all the salty, tangy, pungent umami you could ask for.

Crying Tiger is served without fanfare or pretension, alongside a mound of sticky rice and fresh vegetables or herbs to temper the intensity. I like keeping that same spirit here. Let the lion’s mane take center stage, supported by a cooling, gently contrasting cast of characters. A few slices of crisp cucumbers, juicy tomato wedges, or fresh lettuce is all you really need, though you could always add a side of papaya salad or a light vegetable soup to stretch your entree into more servings.

Thailand will have to wait. Until then, homemade sliced lion’s mane mushroom steak, glossy with with fiery jaew, is hardly suffering. When you eat enough hot chilies to bring tears to your own eyes, you can almost imagine the tiger’s face when it realizes the best part of the meal has escaped its paws yet again.

Continue reading “For Crying Out Loud” →