Farro-dusted fried oysters with cabbage-farrotto bundles

Photograph: Ya’arit Cohen

The Roman legions were fed on it, the word farina comes from it and before corn arrived in Europe from the New World, polenta was made with it. Still, confusion persists over just which grain farro is, mostly because Italians use the word to refer to three different species of ancient wheat: einkorn, spelt and emmer. The latter, rescued from the brink of extinction by a renewed interest in traditional foods, is increasingly found on restaurant menus in New York City. It has a nutty, wholesome flavor, retains a resilient texture when cooked, and its versatility lends itself to diverse preparations. For a classic rendition, Nizza offers a rustic chickpea soup, studded with beans and farro, then drizzled with olive oil and given a grating of pecorino cheese. Many chefs sell farrotto—cooked risotto-style—including Anne Burrell, who takes a sophisticated approach at Centro Vinoteca by blending the earthy wheat with lobster, mushrooms, mint and oregano; not to be too highbrow, for morning diners she makes a farro granola, a chewy, dried fruit–flecked cereal topped with fresh ricotta and chestnut honey. Bar Milano showcases the grain two different ways in one dish: crispy farro-flour–dusted deep-fried oysters sit atop tiny cabbage bundles stuffed with farrotto, nestled in a swath of lemony egg sauce. In the ultimate expression of vegetable love, chef Michael Anthony of Gramercy Tavern presents a tiny mound of plump yet firm grains in a buttery, sweet carrot broth, with tiny heirloom Thumbelina carrots, and a chiffonade of Swiss chard leaves, all brightened by the tang of diced red-wine-vinegar–pickled chard stems.