1 cup wild rice
6 ounces bacon slices
1 cup pecan pieces
2 large tart apples, peeled and chopped
3 scallions, thinly sliced
¼ cup cider vinegar
2 tablespoons toasted nut oil, preferably pecan
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves or 2 teaspoons dried thyme
½ teaspoon ground black pepper
1. Pour the wild rice into a large saucepan, cover with water by several inches, and bring it all to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat a bit and simmer steadily until tender, between 30 and 55 minutes, depending on the varietal and the grains’ residual moisture content. Check the package for more information. Drain in a fine-mesh sieve or a lined colander set in the sink, then rinse under cool water to stop the cooking. Drain thoroughly.
2. Fry the bacon in a dry skillet set over medium heat, turning occasionally, until crisp and dark brown, about 5 minutes. Transfer the slices to a cutting board.
3. Maintain the heat under that skillet of bacon grease. Dump the pecan pieces in it. Toast lightly until browned and irresistible. Scoop up the pecan pieces with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels.
4. Chop the bacon into small bits; chop those pecan pieces, too, until they’re about the size of the grains of wild rice. Put both in a serving bowl. Stir in the wild rice, apples, scallions, vinegar, nut oil, thyme, and pepper.
SERVES 6
Active time: 15 minutes
Total time: 1 hour 10 minutes
Make ahead: Store, covered, in the fridge for up to 3 days.
Save time: Use 3½ cups cooked wild rice and omit soaking and cooking the raw grains.
TESTERS’ NOTES
We’re both lapsed vegetarians. Bruce’s stint into the meatless world came about because he watched an instructor in chef school break down a whole duck. Given that he now routinely breaks down various birds in our kitchen, not to mention whole goats, he’s probably over his initial horror.
Mark’s foray was all about politics after grad school in Madison, Wisconsin, in the mid-’80s. Although it was a decade and a half after the free-love fest of the ’60s, the town still had a hippie vibe. The amazing farmers’ market sported an amazing amount of tie-dye.
We both have something else in common, a secret from our vegetarian days: Neither of us cared for the iconic meal of our former tribe—tabbouleh. Too often it’s just a big bowl of too many raw onions, too much parsley, too much oil—and way too little grain. Sure, tabbouleh is actually a parsley salad, but we both dug for the grain when presented with a plate of the stuff. And otherwise tried to smile.
Things changed long after we’d given up our vegetarian ways—when we found whole-grain bulgur, in fact. We now look forward to a big bowl of tabbouleh for lunch, mostly because the more savory, slightly bitter, and certainly more sophisticated taste of the whole grain. In copious supplies, it keeps the salad from becoming quite so insipid.
We’ve discovered many more whole grains in the years since, some grains that would surprise even tie-dyed-in-the-wool tabbouleh lovers still among our friends: sour/sweet rye berries, best in salads with big flavors; the earthy nose of triticale that can stand up to even smoked trout; or Job’s tears, probably the surprise here, maybe a grain you’ve never heard of, but one popular in Asia and one that offers a fine, dry, less-sweet-than-black-eyed-peas flare to a salad.
In other words, we had to eat more things to find more things to eat. But it’s ever thus—and one of the reasons we all should keep expanding our culinary repertoire. Our palates learn. As we’ve said, they’re directly linked to the memory centers of our brains. And they can keep on learning. In fact, boredom is one of the primary reasons we overeat, whether vegetarians or committed carnivores. We get locked into a limited range, decide we’d rather not eat this or that, limit our choices further, and soon eat without much thought at all. Eat too much without much thought at all, in fact.
Whole grains can change that. There’s an amazing range in this section, much of it undiscovered by many of us. And the research is pretty solid: To eat less, eat more things. Expand your tastes, your likes. Reach beyond the horizon with something as simple as these cold salads, made from triticale berries, oat groats, millet, rye berries, and Job’s tears. There are even twists on the standard tabbouleh in this mix!
Soon enough, you’ll find yourself no longer locked into choices you made years ago for no apparent reason. You’ll find more satisfaction in every bite. All from whole grains. Not too shabby, eh?
MORE WHOLE-GRAIN SALADS
TABBOULEH WITH CHICKEN AND PINEAPPLE
CURRIED CARROT AND BULGUR SALAD
ASIAN-INSPIRED QUINOA WITH CANADIAN BACON
QUINOA WITH ASPARAGUS AND SHIITAKES
QUINOA WITH GRILLED SHRIMP AND PEPPERS
MILLET SALAD WITH CORN AND PEANUTS
RYE BERRIES AND GOAT CHEESE IN A DIJON VINAIGRETTE
TRITICALE WITH SMOKED TROUT AND ARTICHOKES IN A LEMON TAHINI DRESSING
OAT GROAT AND BLACK-EYED PEA SALAD
JOB’S TEARS AND EDAMAME IN A CARROT DRESSING
ASIAN PICADILLO WITH JOB’S TEARS
SPANISH-INSPIRED BLACK BARLEY SALAD WITH CHICKPEAS, DATES, AND TOASTED ALMONDS