A look at overstuffed supermarket shelves makes it seem as if all the wholesome, ancient, or otherwise better-than-white-rice alternative grains have been discovered by now, especially by a guy named Bob. But, believe it or not, there are still some obscure and delicious grains lurking in the bulk aisles of health food stores, just waiting to be declared “the next quinoa.” One in particular has been picking up some steam lately: Job’s tears, a chewy, versatile, mildly sweet and earthy Asian grain that, while still hard to find, has caught the eye of a few discerning cooks across the country.
Job’s tears—also known as coix seed, Chinese pearl barley, or hato mugi in Japanese —are named for the way they look while still in the husk: like fat, shining brown or grey teardrops. They’re credited to Job, the Biblical character with many sorrows and therefore many tears, probably for the abundance of seeds on each stalk. The wild type of Job’s tears are often used, still in the husk, as beads for necklaces and rosaries, which explains all the Etsy links that come up when you try to buy them online. Once the husk has been removed for cooking, the grains look more like oversized pearl barley (and taste like it, too), though the two plants aren’t related at all.
Liz Prueitt, who with her husband, Chad Robertson, founded San Francisco’s renowned Tartine Bakery, describes them as tasting “like a cross between rice and corn and barley.” She only discovered them recently, in a bulk bin at Rainbow Grocery (a beloved local coop), but has been cooking them constantly ever since. “To me the texture is really fascinating, and the size is really unusual,” she says. “You don’t usually get much bigger than a grain of wheat,” but cooked Job’s tears are plump and round, about the size of a pea. The texture is tender yet chewy, like hominy.
Another San Francisco-based proponent of Job’s tears is Heidi Swanson, the wholesome foods-focused cookbook author and blogger behind 101 Cookbooks. She says she discovered them years ago, while trolling a natural foods store for something new, and has used them every which way since. “They work beautifully in many broths, but I also like them in all sorts of other styles, like buddha bowls, or as a way to make a lunch salad a bit more substantial. Or I add a small percentage to rice blends along with millet and mung beans and cook in a donabe rice cooker.” As she lovingly puts it in a recent blog post, they’re “unusual, versatile, and beneficial little weirdos.”
Prueitt, too, has used Job’s tears in a good number of brothy dishes, like a red pepper tortilla soup (where the grain stood in for hominy), and a “fantastic” version of the Polish sauerkraut soup, kapusniak. But she says she’s also had great results turning it into a hot breakfast bowl with quinoa, coconut milk, spiced dates, cinnamon, and walnuts, and tossing it with salsa verde for a “really simple, light and refreshing” side dish.
Job’s tears grow all across Asia, and have been consumed there in various forms for centuries. In China, people boil the grains in sweetened water to make a cloudy, wheaty-tasting tea, often throwing out the grains themselves. Koreans also make a tea of sorts, though theirs is made from powdered toasted Job’s tears and is much thicker than the Chinese version. In Vietnam, cooked whole Job’s tears find their way into sweet, cold soups, while in Thailand they’re often added to drinks, the same way tapioca balls are added to bubble tea. Job’s tears cooked in syrup can also be a topping on shaved ice, kind of like sweetened red beans.
In some of these preparations, Job’s tears are supposed to have medicinal properties. Traditional Chinese medicine prescribes Job’s tears for indigestion, diarrhea, and trouble urinating. They’re also supposed to help skin allergies and even fight cancer. Whether all this is true or not is still being studied, but scientists have discovered that the grains contain chemicals that might disrupt the growth of cancer cells, and that extracts of Job’s tears helped reduce allergic reactions and boost immune systems in mice. We still haven’t studied how—or if—all this works in the human body, but at the very least we know that Job’s tears are full of antioxidants, and as good for you as any high-in-fiber whole grain.
Outside of traditional Asian restaurants, Job’s tears are still mostly under the radar in professional kitchens. But Baroo, a tiny, critically-acclaimed two-man operation in LA, puts them to a somewhat traditional use in a mostly non-traditional kitchen. There chef Kwang Uh uses Job’s tears, along with kamut and farro, in his noorook, which is the Korean version of koji: fermented grains used to make miso, soy sauce, sake, and more. He serves the noorook as a sort of porridge, stained pink with beets and garnished with tiny greens.
Uh, who grew up in South Korea, remembers Job’s tears from his childhood, though only in beverage form. “We used to have Job's tears tea. Even most of vending machines had it, but the taste was pretty artificial.” As a chef, he returned to the ingredient in its whole form because he liked the texture and the “slightly nutty, toasty taste.” Now he’s thinking up new uses—puffed Job’s tears in their own broth with pine and uni, crisp Job’s tears with a citrusy salad and coconut dressing—but also hoping to make something like the tea of his childhood, “with some peanut powder or crumble.”
Job’s tears are still mostly unheard of among chefs who didn’t grow up with them partly because they can be hard to find and expensive. “It’s something we really have to educate people on,” says chef Lanny Lancarte, who regularly puts Job’s tears on the menu at his health-conscious Fort Worth restaurant, Righteous Foods. “Sourcing is tough, and so is finding the right price point.” He likes them for their “distinct, wholesome flavor,” and “al dente” texture, and like Prueitt, he uses them in place of hominy in his pozole. “Of course everyone asks about them,” Lancarte says, and many are just eager to try this grain they’ve never heard of. Now the Job’s tears at Righteous Foods have become particularly popular among those looking for a gluten-free whole grain, but “a lot of customers really like them.”
Prueitt is also keen on pushing Job’s tears to customers and friends. “I’ve definitely had a lot of interest,” she says, “and a lot of my chef friends have been asking where I get them.” They’ll “definitely” be on the menu—in the form of breakfast, grain bowls, and sides—at the Manufactory, Tartine’s forthcoming all-day restaurant and bakery at the Heath Ceramics building in the mission. “It’s like quinoa five years ago,” says Prueitt. “I’m really going to be campaigning for it.”
Look for Job’s tears at your local Chinese, Japanese, or Korean grocery store, or a well-stocked natural foods store, and cook them like you would beans. Lancarte and Swanson like to soak them for a few hours first, but it’s not strictly necessary—Prueitt thinks it doesn’t make a difference. Either way, cover the Job’s tears in a few inches of water and simmer until they’re chewy and cooked through, about 45 minutes. Unlike rice, they won’t absorb all the water, and also unlike rice, they’re “really hard to screw up,” says Lancarte.
Drain the grains when they’re done, but save the liquid if you like. Prueitt recommends adding it to the broth if you decide to make a soup, and Swanson likes to add shichimi togarashi spices and drink it as a version of this soba yu. Swanson also recommends seasoning the liquid from the start: “I season it neutrally with salt if I don't know how I intend to use the Job's tears, but you could use spices, mirepoix, ginger, etc. Or I’ll boil them in broth or diluted coconut water.”
As for what to do with the cooked grains, Swanson’s recipe for Job’s tears in coconut broth is a good start, but the possibilities are endless. Play around with them, throw them in soups and salads, or swap them for other grains in your favorite recipes and see what works best. Any way you do it, you’ll be ahead of the curve.