← Back to Blog

How to Cook Farro -- The Night the House Became Mine

My landlord, Mr. Friedman, called Thursday. He's owned this house since 1998 — the little three-bedroom in Alief where I've lived for over twenty years. He's eighty-one now and his wife wants to move to Florida and he's selling the property. He called to give me first right of refusal. He said, "Bobby, you've been the best tenant I've ever had. The smoker is permanent now." I said, "The smoker has always been permanent." He said, "I know. That's why I'm offering you the house first."

He quoted me a price. It was generous — below market value, which he acknowledged with the straightforward honesty of a man who has made enough money and is ready to be decent about it. I said I needed to think about it. He said take your time. He said, "That smoker setup would take a crane to move. I'd rather sell you the house than explain it to another buyer."

I sat on the back porch that evening and looked at the yard — the smoker compound (offset, kettle, flat-top, all arranged like a shrine), the crape myrtle where Mai sits, the fence where Mr. Washington leans, the patch of grass where Tyler and Emma and Lily played as children on their custody weekends. This is my home. It has been my home for over two decades. The idea of owning it — of it being mine in the legal, permanent, nobody-can-take-it-away sense — is something I never thought I'd feel. I rented because I didn't think I deserved to own. I drank. I divorced. I was the family failure. Men like that don't buy houses. Except sometimes they do. Sometimes they get sober and they stay sober and they tend a smoker for twenty years and one day the landlord calls and says: this is yours if you want it.

I want it. I called Mr. Friedman the next morning and said yes. He said, "Good. I'll have my lawyer draw up the papers." I said, "Thank you." He said, "Thank you for taking care of it." He meant the house. He also meant the smoker. Both deserved care.

Made a simple dinner to celebrate: brisket and rice. The brisket from last weekend's cook, sliced and reheated in the oven, over white rice with a drizzle of the fish sauce caramel from the thit kho pot. Simple. Home. Mine.

I made white rice that night — the fast, simple kind that knows its place. But farro is what I reach for now when I want a grain that earns its spot on the plate: nutty, a little chewy, something with actual substance underneath the brisket and the fish sauce caramel. It doesn’t disappear. It holds. After a phone call like the one I got from Mr. Friedman, after sitting on that porch and understanding for the first time that a place could be truly mine, I wanted a dinner with some weight to it — and farro does that in a way white rice sometimes doesn’t. Make this alongside anything braised, anything slow-cooked, anything that’s been waiting all week to be eaten in a kitchen that belongs to you.

How to Cook Farro

Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 cup pearled or semi-pearled farro
  • 2 1/2 cups water or low-sodium chicken or vegetable broth
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil (optional)
  • 1 clove garlic, smashed (optional)

Instructions

  1. Rinse the farro. Place farro in a fine-mesh strainer and rinse thoroughly under cold running water. This removes surface starch and any dusty residue. Drain well.
  2. Combine in pot. In a medium saucepan, combine the rinsed farro, water or broth, salt, and olive oil and garlic if using. Stir once to combine and bring to a boil over medium-high heat.
  3. Simmer until tender. Once boiling, reduce heat to low and cover. Simmer until farro is tender and has absorbed most of the liquid — about 25 to 30 minutes for pearled farro, or 15 to 20 minutes for quick-cooking farro. Check at the 20-minute mark; farro should be chewy but not hard at the center.
  4. Drain if needed. If any liquid remains after farro is fully tender, drain through a fine-mesh strainer. Remove the garlic clove if you used one.
  5. Rest and fluff. Return farro to the pot off the heat, cover, and let rest 5 minutes. Fluff with a fork before serving. Taste and adjust salt as needed.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 170 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 3g | Carbs: 34g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 290mg

Bobby Tran
About the cook who shared this
Bobby Tran
Week 379 of Bobby’s 30-year story · Houston, Texas
Bobby Tran was born in a refugee camp in Arkansas to parents who fled Saigon with nothing. He grew up in Houston straddling two worlds — Vietnamese at home, Texan everywhere else — and learned to cook from his mother's pho and a neighbor's BBQ smoker. He's a former shrimper, a recovering alcoholic, a divorced dad of three, and the guy who marinates brisket in fish sauce and lemongrass because he doesn't believe in borders, especially when it comes to flavor.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?