June 2024. The land had a particular quality in early summer that I'd been paying attention to across the two-plus years I'd owned it—the way the morning light came through the timber at a specific angle between the creek and the meadow, the way the meadow grasses moved before the rest of the air moved, the way the food forest trees had become silhouettes you could identify at a distance. You start to know a piece of ground. The knowing takes time and can't be rushed.
I hosted a small gathering at the land—not a big event, just a Saturday afternoon for people who'd been involved in one way or another with the traditional foods work. Art came, and a couple of his catering staff. The bean woman from Stilwell came, which I hadn't expected and was very glad about. Lily drove up from Norman. The teenager from the workshop, whose name I'd learned was Madison, came with her mother.
We cooked informally, each person bringing something or contributing to what was being made. The bean woman brought dried beans and made a preparation I hadn't seen before—a simple cold bean salad with wild onions and sumac dressing that she said was something her mother made in summer when it was too hot to cook. I wrote it down while she talked through it. Lily was across the table recording audio on her phone with silent permission from everyone present.
Sitting around the fire afterward I thought: this is what I want the land to be. A place where the food and the people who know it gather and the knowledge moves between them. Not a museum. Not a business. Just a place where the living practice stays alive.
What the bean woman brought that afternoon stayed with me long after everyone had gone home — not just the dish itself, but the ease of it, the way it asked almost nothing of a hot summer kitchen and gave back so much at the table. I’ve been returning to that spirit ever since: cold, grain-forward salads made ahead, dressed simply, shared freely. This farro salad captures that same quality — something you can make the morning of a gathering, let sit until the flavors know each other, and set out without ceremony.
Farro Salad
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min + chilling | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 cups dry farro, rinsed
- 3 1/2 cups water or vegetable broth
- 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
- 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
- 1 English cucumber, diced
- 1/3 cup red onion or wild onion, thinly sliced
- 1/2 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
- 1/4 cup fresh mint leaves, torn
- 1/3 cup crumbled feta cheese (optional)
- 3 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
- 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
- 1 teaspoon ground sumac
- 1/2 teaspoon honey
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Instructions
- Cook the farro. Combine farro, water or broth, and 1/2 teaspoon salt in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a low simmer. Cover and cook 25–30 minutes, until farro is tender but still has a pleasant chew. Drain any excess liquid.
- Cool completely. Spread cooked farro on a baking sheet or wide bowl and let cool to room temperature, at least 20 minutes. For a make-ahead approach, refrigerate until fully chilled, up to 24 hours.
- Make the dressing. Whisk together olive oil, lemon juice, red wine vinegar, sumac, honey, salt, and black pepper in a small bowl until combined.
- Combine. Transfer chilled farro to a large mixing bowl. Add cherry tomatoes, cucumber, onion, parsley, and mint. Pour dressing over the top and toss well to coat everything evenly.
- Taste and adjust. Season with additional salt, pepper, or lemon juice as needed. Fold in crumbled feta if using.
- Rest and serve. Let the salad sit at least 10 minutes before serving so the flavors settle. Serve cold or at room temperature. Keeps refrigerated for up to 3 days.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 240 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 290mg