Farro con Miele e Noci

Italian breakfast is not what Americans imagine. There are no stacks of pancakes, no elaborate productions. A caffè, perhaps a biscotto, bread with marmellata if you are hungry. This is how Italians have started their mornings for generations.

Farro is different. It is peasant food, the grain that sustained Roman legions and Umbrian farmers alike. Cooked simply in water until tender but never soft, it has a chewiness that oatmeal cannot match. The Italians call this texture 'al dente,' and it applies to grains as surely as to pasta.

I do not sweeten the cooking liquid. The honey comes at the end, drizzled over the warm grain so you taste it directly. The walnuts must be toasted. Raw walnuts are bitter and dull. Five minutes in a dry pan transforms them. This is not optional. What you keep out is as significant as what you put in: no cinnamon, no vanilla, no brown sugar. The farro tastes of the earth. The honey tastes of flowers. The walnuts taste of themselves. That is enough.