Grain Bowls: The Secret to Surviving a Grey Winter

You know, every year around January (right after the holiday chaos when my fridge is a land of leftovers and mysterious jars), I end up craving something that’s both comforting and somewhat good for me. That’s actually how this Warming Winter Grain Bowl with Roasted Red Pepper Sauce was born—one cold evening, the only thing I had going for me was a bag of farro, a couple sad looking carrots, and this jar of red peppers lurking at the back of the cupboard. Anyway, after a bit of kitchen tinkering and maybe a little swearing at my food processor, I ended up with a bowl that sort of reminded me why I love winter food—heartier, cozier, no tiny salad leaves in sight. Bonus: it’s even better with sweatpants. Or maybe that’s just me.

Warming Winter Grain Bowl with Roasted Red Pepper Sauce

Why I Keep Making This in the Depths of Winter

I make this grain bowl, honestly, because it checks a lot of boxes: it’s filling, it’s got enough veggies that I can plausibly call it healthy, and the red pepper sauce? Oh, my partner pretty much drinks it straight (no judgment). That sauce has rescued more sad weeknight meals than I’d care to admit. The other thing—I usually sneak a taste right as I pour it over the bowl, just, you know, for quality control. And the best part is, if you’re one of those folks who gets bored with boring meals (me, always), mixing up the toppings is pretty much required.

What You’ll Need (and What I Use When I’m in a Rush)

Grains: About 250 grams of farro, barley, or quinoa—farro is my favorite, but honestly, whatever grain you’ve got works fine. Rice is ok in a pinch, I’ve even used leftover brown rice when I’ve been lazy.
Veggies: Two medium carrots (I’ve totally subbed in parsnip, or sweet potato, or whatever’s starting to look wrinkly in the veg drawer), one red onion, and a small head of broccoli. My grandmother always swore by a specific onion variety, but if I’m honest, any of ’em work.
Chickpeas: One can, drained and rinsed. I know, purists will cook their own, but who has the time every week?
Olive oil: A good glug (roughly 2-3 tablespoons—never really measured this. Sorry!)
Salt and pepper: To taste, obviously. I probably add more salt than I should, it’s just how I grew up.
For the Roasted Red Pepper Sauce:
- One jar (about 200 grams) roasted red peppers, drained (or roast your own if you’re feeling ambitious—I rarely do, honestly)
- 2 tablespoons tahini
- 1 small garlic clove (sometimes I use half because otherwise my kids make faces)
- Juice from half a lemon, or a splash of apple cider vinegar if you’re out
- Pinch of smoked paprika—highly recommend, but regular paprika is fine
- Pinch of chili flakes (skip if spice isn’t your mate)
- Salt and pepper
Extras: Pumpkin seeds, feta, parsley—these are probably optional, but I always end up throwing them on. Or sometimes crispy onions if you’ve got ’em.

Let’s Make It! (With Some Tangents)

First, get those grains cooking—check your packet for timing, but generally, simmer them in lightly salted water for 20-30 minutes. I’ve definitely forgotten to set a timer before and guessed based on texture—never failed me yet.
While that’s happening, preheat your oven to 210°C (or about 410°F, for my American pals). Chop your carrots, onion, and broccoli into bite-sized bits. Throw them on a big sheet tray with the chickpeas, olive oil, salt, pepper. Toss around—hands are best, unless you’re anti-mess.
Roast everything for about 25-30 minutes. Toss halfway if you remember (I usually don’t, but it’s fine). Don’t be alarmed if the broccoli goes a bit crispy—that’s the good stuff. If some chickpeas look a little dry by the end, you’re winning.
For the sauce: Dump the drained peppers, tahini, garlic, lemon juice, paprika, chili flakes, salt and pepper in a food processor or blender. Blend until smooth-ish—pause for a taste here (obligatory). Add a tiny splash of water or olive oil to loosen if you want. More lemon if you like it zingy.
Now, assemble! Scoop cooked grains into big bowls (or just one bowl if you’re me and eating straight from the pot). Top with roasted veggies and chickpeas, drizzle—well, slather—the sauce over everything. Finish with your extras: feta, herbs, pumpkin seeds, or whatever’s rattling around.

Little Things I’ve Learned (Sometimes the Hard Way)

If you forget the veggies in the oven and they go a bit too golden, that actually makes them tastier. I used to stress if they looked borderline burnt; now, I aim for a bit of crispiness.
Your sauce will taste completely different depending on your peppers. Some brands are a bit bland (I once accidentally bought a vinegary one—do not recommend, but hey, you’ll live).
I’ve found washing up the food processor is officially the worst part of this recipe, but it’s worth it. Sorta.

Experiments & Misfires: My Grain Bowl Variations

Swap chickpeas for roasted tofu—did this once when I ran out of beans. Not bad, but not as nutty. My kids preferred the chickpeas though (less weird looks!)
Once tried spiralizing the carrots instead of chopping—just made a tangled mess, honestly. Stick with chunks.
Added a fried egg on top once. Slight overkill for lunch but incredible for dinner.
Sometimes a scattering of pomegranate seeds makes it taste fancy, sort of like a café lunch (without the bill)

What If I Don’t Have All the Equipment?

Big sheet pan? Great. If not, just squeeze the veggies onto whatever you’ve got—even an old lasagna dish will work. For the sauce, I once made it using an immersion blender in a mason jar. Bit precarious, but it worked (sorta. Use a tall jar though, trust me).

How to Store (But It Never Lasts That Long…)

Okay, technically, you can store leftovers in a sealed container in the fridge for 2-3 days. The sauce might thicken, so splash in a little water before using. But honestly, in my house, it barely lasts a day—people snack on it cold straight from the fridge, not that I’m admitting anything here. Actually, I think the flavors get even better the next day if you’re that patient.

Serving: How I Like It (And You Might Too)

I usually serve this grain bowl while it’s still just slightly warm, with way more sauce than I probably should. If it’s a proper weekend lunch, I’ll put everything out buffet style, and everyone builds their own bowl—leads to less bickering over toppings. The first time I tried this, I served it with crusty bread to mop up the sauce. No regrets.

Oh, and a Few “Pro Tips” (Learned the Hard Way…)

Don’t rush the grains—undercooked farro is like chewing pebbles, and I tried quick-cooking it once by cranking up the heat. My dentist probably still sighs thinking about it.
Actually, I find it works better if you let your roasted veggies cool just a touch before dumping the sauce on top. Helps everything soak up the flavor better (no clue why, but it does).
If you forget to drain the peppers OMG the sauce gets runny and sad. Did that last month, won’t do it again.

Questions People (and My Family) Have Actually Asked

Can I make the sauce ahead? Oh, for sure! Sometimes I even double it. Just stir before serving, it thickens up in the fridge.
What if I hate tahini? Well, you can swap for almond butter, or skip it (just lower the garlic and maybe add a tiny bit of oil) but… the sauce gets a tad less creamy.
Is this gluten free? Only if you use gluten-free grains like quinoa or buckwheat. Trust me, my mate Kate found out the hard way when I served her barley.
Can I microwave it? Yeah, it’ll work once assembled, but I think it tastes better re-warmed on the stove, especially the sauce.
My sauce split, now what?! Just blend it again with a splash of water or oil; it’s more forgiving than it looks.

One last note—I once tried adding raisins, thinking it’d be a jazzy idea. Uh, not my best move. But hey, we live and learn (and sometimes end up picking out raisins for ages).

Warming Winter Grain Bowl with Roasted Red Pepper Sauce