Polenta

When I was growing up, we didn't eat polenta very much at all. If we did, it was because one of Nana's sisters had made it for "that no account Northern husband of hers." Nana's culinary prejudices ran deep: REALLY deep. Bread, pasta, potatoes, all on the table, almost every day. Corn? Not much chance of it. Occasionally, she'd bring home a cornbread, or even make one (it was always pretty bad), but that was rare. And she had no patience for polenta.

Well, when I got old enough to eat in restaurants, polenta had been "rediscovered." And it was everywhere. It seems that every single entree came with a side of polenta, whether it was appropriate or not. And I ate every grain of it.

Nana was NOT pleased. "Why can't you just eat pasta like normal people? Isn't that how I brought you up?" It was pretty serious: I mean, I could have told her that I was giving up Catholicism, taking up a new Eastern faith, renouncing the church and wearing dresses from now on (and I DID tell her all of that, except the part about wearing dresses), and her response would be something like "well, it's all for the better. It's important that you try something new, and let me know if you like it because maybe I'll do it, too." (I think that if I HAD told her I wanted to wear dresses, she would have given me magazines for ideas and would have told me NOT to dress like my mother, but that's sheer, mean spirited speculation on my part. It IS probably true though).

Well, polenta's day in the sun has pretty much faded, in that it's not the "star" of menus anymore. You don't see stupid things like smoked salmon on a bed of blueberry polenta (I am not making that one up folks), but you DO see good things like polenta fries, and polenta with dishes like chicken, or lamb, etc. In fact, I came close to combining cultures as I designed the menu for this month's dinner party. I'm making a Flemish dish: carbonnade, which needs a starch of some kind, and I really seriously considered polenta. I'm sticking with noodles I'll cut myself though.

But I digress. People buy polenta in restaurants, but not too many people cook it at home. I think that is in large part because it has absorbed a mystique about it, like risotto, that simply is not true. It's NOT hard to make, some of the rules you're taught in cookbooks do not need to be followed, and even when you're not using "instant" polenta, or, heaven forbid, those disgusting tubes of the stuff that you cut into slices, it's very easy to make. I'm going to explain how to make it, how to finish it off, and then give you a second recipe for folks who are STILL a little intimidated.

First, basic polenta. You have to remember a 1:4 ratio. You need one part polenta for every four parts of liquid you use. Normally, that liquid is water. But you could use stock, and you could use milk, for example. You would use milk if you were going to make a breakfast polenta, which is really good.

Now, cookbooks tell you to bring your liquid to the boil and then slowly add the polenta, letting it trickle through your fingers.

Right. Like I have time for this? Like you do? Okay, this is how you're going to do it. You're going to have a big spoon ready. You put some salt (or sugar) into the liquid, and then while it's still cold, you add all the polenta. ALL of it. Don't be shy. It's not gonna bite you. THEN you turn the heat to medium, and you start stirring. You really DO have to keep the thing moving, because it will burn if you don't. Scrape the spoon into the corners of your pot to keep everything going.

Be careful. As polenta starts to cook, it thickens, and it bubbles. It bubbles HARD. And it's hot. It's VERY hot. If, for example, some of it were to hit the side of your neck, after you got it off, you could like and tell people you got a hickey the night before (How do I know this? Remember. A minimum of one large, very dry martini for that information). Watch how the polenta almost "opens" like a flower. You'll see a change, as it goes from a liquid mess, to a thicker, dull colored one, to a shiny thick one. When the polenta is pulling away from the pot as you stir (it really DOES do this), you're ready. Now you can "gussy it up." You can leave it as it is, or you can stir in some olive oil or butter. And then you've got a great side dish. You can also stir in butter, milk and sugar, and you've got a real good breakfast with some fruit.

There are ways to use leftover polenta, after it has hardened, but I honestly have never found them to be too successful, or too tasty. So I'll leave that to you to discover on your own. Now, onto another recipe: polentina soup.

I really like this soup. It's a nice, light, pleasant dish that is reminiscent of summer corn, but is really easy to make. I make it sometimes with garlic broth, and sometimes with just plain chicken stock. And sometimes, if I have some "tomato water," one of those exotic, fancy schmancy ingredients, I use that half and half with the stock.

So, get a quart of liquid ready, and this time, SIX TABLESPOONS of polenta. That is all of about 1/3 of a cup. So if you would rather not measure out six tablespoons, use 1/3 of a cup. It's fine. Again, put the polenta into the liquid cold. And bring it to a slow boil. Stirring is not as important here, but it is important. You need to keep the grains moving otherwise they will settle out and burn. Again, you'll see a transformation as your soup gets thicker, but it will never get "thick." Of course, you'll season as you go along, to make sure it tastes the way you like.

By itself, this is a pretty meager dish, but you CAN eat it that way. I can't dream of doing this, however, without putting in some greens. If it's a tender green, like spinach, or baby chard, I'll put it in raw and let it cook and melt in the heat of the soup. For a sturdier green, I'll cook it beforehand. and then chop it up and put it in. You can also add some sausage, or some other kind of meat to it. Cooked chicken is good, but so is cooked sausage. So is duck, if you have some leftover cooked duck lying around (Please don't ask, but I frequently do).

It's a good luncheon soup, or a good dinner meal, with a salad, or perhaps some pizza.

Nana loves me, still, from beyond, but I may have ticked her off with this piece. Ah, the risks of cooking. You never know WHO you're going to offend.