Christmas Kutya with Nut Milk
Christmas Kutya with Nut Milk – 12 dishes should be present on the Christmas table, one and the most important thing is kutya.
Wheat is a universal ingredient that has accompanied me throughout my life. I’ve learned to see its character: it can be gentle or stubborn, tender or strong. Over the years of cooking, I’ve realized that every grain has its own temperament. Hard wheat gives elastic dough that holds its shape and allows the creation of thin layers; soft wheat unfolds in porridges and desserts where delicacy is needed. It’s important to feel the grain, because the entire dish depends on its condition. If it’s dry and brittle – it will lack moisture; if it’s damp – the aroma will spoil. I always choose grain that smells fresh and has no dust – it “breathes”. Wheat teaches patience: it cannot be rushed. It is generous only when you give it time. And it is precisely this rhythm – calm and attentive – that shapes true mastery in a cook.
I always say that a good dish begins at the stage of selecting the grain. All my years of practice have taught me: the quality of wheat is visible right away if you know what to look for. The grain should be dense, dry, shiny, free of cracks and spots. If it’s dull, that’s a sign of poor storage. Fresh wheat emits a light, slightly sweet aroma – a sign that there’s still life inside. I always check it by touch: if the grain is warm and loose, it’s healthy; if cold and clumpy – too moist. Hard varieties give strong gluten that can withstand long kneading – indispensable for bread, pasta, and pizza. Soft varieties I use for tender bakes: buns, pancakes, pastries. I avoid grains with a sharp smell – that’s a sign of age or microbial contamination. And one more important rule – wheat should not creak on the teeth when you taste it raw. That sound means overdrying, which makes the grain lifeless. Good wheat has its own “music”: it softly rustles in the palms. Over the years, I’ve learned to hear that sound and always know that from such grain something truly worthy will be made.
Before I start cooking, I always let the grain cleanse itself and absorb moisture. I rinse the wheat in several waters – until the last one remains clear. This helps remove dust, husks, and small particles. Then I dry the grain in a thin layer to prevent souring. If I plan to boil it, I always soak it – for at least 8 hours, preferably overnight. Then the grain swells evenly, and the core becomes soft. For sprouting, I use a glass jar covered with a damp cloth, keeping it slightly warm. After a day, sprouts awaken – the moment when the grain comes alive. Sprouted wheat has a milky aroma, a light malty flavor, and offers special health benefits. If I’m preparing flour, I let the grain dry naturally, without artificial heating. Hot drying kills the aroma and makes the flour “dead”. All these are small details, but they’re what distinguish craft from coincidence. Wheat demands time, and if you give it that, it rewards you with aroma, tenderness, and dough pliability. I never rush: it’s a rule that has never failed me.
Heat is the main tool when working with wheat. Over the years, I’ve learned that temperature determines everything: even a small deviation can spoil the dough’s structure or make the grain tough. When boiling wheat, I always start with cold water, bring it to a gentle boil, then reduce the heat to a minimum and let it cook slowly. It’s at that moment that its natural sweetness unfolds. For bread, I maintain a baking temperature of 190-200°C (374-392°F): it creates a golden crust and a soft, moist crumb. When working with dough rich in butter or sugar, I lower the temperature to 170°C (338°F), since these ingredients accelerate browning. Toasting the grain over low heat before boiling releases a nutty aroma – a technique I use in dishes with meat and vegetables. I always advise not to rush: wheat loves gradual temperature transitions, and sudden heat destroys it. If the grain suddenly bursts or cracks, it’s a sign the heat is too strong. A cook must learn to listen – even the hiss or aroma will tell when to stop. That’s where true mastery lies.
Wheat has a soft, warm taste, so I always use it as a base on which other notes are strung. In my kitchen, it pairs beautifully with butter, honey, dried fruits, herbs, and spices. For sweet dishes, I add cinnamon, cardamom, vanilla, a touch of nutmeg – they reveal the grain’s natural sweetness. For savory ones – I love pairing it with roasted pumpkin, caramelized onion, herbs. Wheat absorbs aromas well, so it’s important not to overwhelm it – just a hint is enough for a harmonious flavor. In meat dishes, it binds sauces into a delicate texture. I add sprouted grain to salads, where it plays the role of a crunchy, lively accent. If I need to refresh the taste, I use lemon juice or yogurt – acidity brings lightness. Through years of experience, I’ve become convinced: wheat is a canvas on which any aromatic profile can be painted. It’s calm, flexible, intelligent. And if you listen, it will tell you itself which combinations create perfection.
The biggest mistake I see again and again is haste. Wheat doesn’t tolerate carelessness. If you don’t give it time, the grain remains hard, the flavor flat, and the dish soulless. The second mistake is too much water: then the grain “tires”, loses shape, and becomes sticky. I always make sure the water just covers the wheat without turning it into a liquid mass. Another risk is improper storage. A humid environment is the enemy of grain. That’s why I keep wheat in glass jars with tight lids, in a dark, dry place. Every few weeks I check for any smell or condensation. Quality control starts even before cooking: I always taste a few raw grains – if the flavor is deep and slightly sweet, it’s good; if empty or sour – that wheat has lost its life. While cooking, I pay attention to the aroma – if it changes abruptly, the temperature is too high. When you work attentively, wheat rewards you with consistency. I’ve learned to trust it: if it’s “silent”, it means you’re doing everything right. And above all – don’t fear slowness. Everything made with soul takes time, and wheat especially. That’s why it remains a symbol of abundance, calm, and home.