Vegetarian Farro Skillet

Holy Week. Semana Santa. The week that on the island is sacred — schools close, government closes, the whole country slows down, even the atheists slow down because Semana Santa is not just religion, it is rhythm. Here in Hartford it is a normal work week with a Friday off if you are lucky and I am not, because Hartford Hospital does not close for Good Friday, the patients are still sick, the kitchen still runs.

On Good Friday I make bacalao guisado. Salt cod stew. This is a Catholic thing — no meat on Good Friday — and I am not a practicing Catholic in the way Luz María is a practicing Catholic, but the food is older than my belief. The food is the culture. You make bacalao guisado on Good Friday because your mother made bacalao guisado on Good Friday because her mother made bacalao guisado on Good Friday, and somewhere back up the chain a woman in Spain or the Canaries made it because she was instructed to, and the chain holds regardless of the faith of the cook. This is what religion does best — it gives you recipes.

The process: salt cod soaked overnight, water changed twice, to draw out the salt. The next day, poached briefly in fresh water, flaked by hand, every bone felt-for and removed because one bone in a bite can ruin a Friday. Sofrito bloomed in olive oil in a heavy pot, onions, peppers, garlic, a handful of olives, a splash of vinegar, a can of whole peeled tomatoes crushed in the hand. The bacalao goes in late, gently, because it does not need to cook more, it needs to absorb. Served over rice or with boiled green bananas or — Luz María's variant — with boiled yautía. I did yautía this year. Mami said it was right.

Wednesday I took Mami to the Spanish Mass at St. Augustine. She has not been in months — the walk is too much, the cold has been too much — but the weather broke this week and she said she wanted to go. I drove. I helped her up the steps. Father Ramírez, who is seventy-two and Puerto Rican and has known Mami since 2018 when she arrived, came over before Mass and held her hand and spoke to her in the soft Spanish of elderly priests. Mami called him "Padrecito" and asked about his mother, who died in 1998, and Father Ramírez said, "She is in heaven, Doña Luz María, and she remembers you." Mami nodded and accepted this. I did not correct either of them.

Mass was short. The homily was about forgiveness. I did not cry, which surprised me. I have gotten better at not crying in church. I save my crying for the kitchen.

Friday was the bacalao. Rosa and Carlos came. Camila is teething and ate nothing but she gummed a plantain for twenty minutes, which I counted as dinner. Mami ate a full plate. She said, "Less vinegar next year." I said, "Sí, Mami." The chain holds. Wepa.

The bacalao guisado is the heart of our Good Friday, and it always will be — but on the weeks when the salt cod needs more soaking time than I have, or when I’m feeding someone who doesn’t eat fish, this vegetarian farro skillet has become my backup altar. Farro has the same earthy, filling quality that makes a bowl feel like a meal your grandmother would approve of, and one pan on a Friday night, after a hospital shift, after Mass, after everything — that matters. Mami hasn’t weighed in on the farro yet, but I’m keeping it in reserve.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 cup farro, rinsed
2 1/2 cups vegetable broth
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, drained
1 can (15 oz) chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 cups baby spinach
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
Crumbled feta or shaved Parmesan for serving (optional)

Instructions

Cook the farro. Combine farro and vegetable broth in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 25–30 minutes until farro is tender and broth is absorbed. Set aside.
Build the sofrito base. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add onion and bell pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, for 6–8 minutes until softened. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Season and add tomatoes. Stir in smoked paprika, cumin, and red pepper flakes. Add drained diced tomatoes and cook for 3–4 minutes, letting the tomatoes break down slightly into the aromatics.
Add chickpeas. Stir in chickpeas and cook for 3 minutes until heated through and beginning to crisp at the edges. Season with salt and black pepper.
Combine with farro. Add the cooked farro to the skillet and stir to combine everything evenly. Cook for 2 minutes so the flavors meld.
Finish with greens and vinegar. Add baby spinach and stir until just wilted, about 1 minute. Remove from heat and stir in red wine vinegar and fresh parsley.
Serve. Spoon into bowls and top with crumbled feta or shaved Parmesan if desired. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Vegetarian Farro Skillet — A Meatless Friday Dish for When the Chain Holds