Ragazzi, today we are going to make "a dish for all seasons," and we're going to challenge, and break some rules.
Below, you will see the end product of Annalena's riffing on some recipes: it is a polenta cake, inspired by her friend and the Empress of the Edge, Margery (Margery sharpens Annalena's knives). She made a polenta cake and, as Annalena posted on Margery's picture, she began thinking "hmmmm." Now, at the same time, Annalena was musing about one of her favorite dishes in the world: vignarola. Vignarola, for those of you who have never had it, is a dish which, Annalena is told, you will not find outside of Rome (although she found it in a restaurant near Rockefeller Center). It is a thick puree of artichokes, fava beans, and peas: sort of a "welcome spring" and tonic for all of us who need a break after the travails of winter (and we had our travails this year, did we not?). So, Annalena began putting things together for this. She pulled out her polenta and found... all she had was the "old fashioned" kind, which takes 45 minutes to cook.
Well, saying "45 minutes to cook," is sort of like not finishing a sentence. The tradition of polenta cooking is that someone has to stand there, stirring constantly, for 45 minutes to an hour, stirring an always thickening, bubbling hot, pot of corn grits . Indeed, Annalena wishes she had a film of her Italian teacher, who is also an actor, mimicking his mother doing just that.
Well, Annalena needs to have a chat with Mrs. Jacopo, because this is not necessary. Indeed, some years ago, Annalena found that one myth of polenta making was just that: a myth. We are taught that, to make polenta properly, you have to bring the water or stock you are using to a rapid boil, and slowly pour the grain into the liquid, whisking all the time. Annalena wishes she could remember who liberated her from this rather unseemly gesture (it sort of looked like an individual sex practice to her): her friend put ALL the polenta into cold water at once, and then began whisking to the point of boiling. It works, amici. Trust Annalena on this one. As God is her witness, she will never eat lumpy polenta again.
Now, onto the 45 minute thing. Well, yes, old fashioned polenta does take 45 minutes to cook; however, there is no need to stir constantly if you keep the heat low, and also stir occasionally. As we progress through this recipe, you will see this.
Annalena's recipe calls for the favas, the peas, and artichoke hearts. The latter are not local: growing artichokes in NY is akin to looking for love in all the wrong places. So Annalena had a half pound of frozen ones. The peas and favas, however, were. And when these things are not here, make this any way you like. It is really good.
Let's start by getting the hard stuff out of the way: the favas. You can read about how to prepare them, but let Annalena tell you: every single Italian woman who was cooked her share of fava beans, every prep cook, ANYONE who has done more than a few pounds of these, needs sainthood. First, you peel very fat pods. Then you get the beans into hot water, and blanch them for a couple of minutes. Then, you peel them after you dump them in ice water. For all of this, you get about 2/3-3/4 cup of beans for every pound of favas you buy. Alternatively, you can peel the pods, freeze the beans, and thaw them. That works too. Annalena learned that from Paula Wolfert, the expert on Moroccan cooking, who has done her time with favas.
Ok, so you want about 3/4-1 cup of peeled favas, and then the same quantity of peas, cooked for about five minutes. Keep them aside, and also have your half pound of thawed, or frozen, artichoke hearts.
Let's make polenta. Put a cup of dry polenta into four cups of water, vegetable stock, chicken stock, or a mix, and then start stirring at medium heat. This is by "feel" ragazzi, and at some point, you will "feel" and "see" the polenta go from granular, and heavy, into a cloudy suspension. At that point, the grains have absorbed enough liquid so that you don't have to stir them constantly. Lower the heat to a mere flicker, and keep your whisk handy. Do other things in the kitchen (like peel your favas), and keep busy, because you will return to the polenta every five minutes or so, and stir it for thirty seconds.
For Annalena's version , now grate about a cup's worth of parmesan cheese, and also slice about half a pound of fontina cheese, very thinly. You can use a pecorino, and you can use mozzarella (in fact, there were left over boccocini in Annalena's dish, you just can't see them), or provolone, or anything you like.
Are you still stirring that polenta? Good. After about twenty minutes, Annalena suggests that you cover the pot in between stirrings. The reason for this is to keep the liquid from evaporating too quickly, which will, in turn, lead to your polenta burning. Now, burnt polenta is not as serious as Paris burning, but this IS dinner, carini. Also - and Annalena is serious about this - catching a bubble of boiling polenta on your skin is not a fun thing. Trust Annalena on that.
So, after you have had your peas and favas prepared, and your cheese grated and sliced, now what? Well, get a bread loaf pan (the one below is 8x4. You can use 9x5. You could even use an 8x8 or a 9x9 metal pan. Annalena fears for your safety with glass ones). Grease it well.
Keep cooking the polenta. You'll see decided changes in it, and after about forty minutes, a mass will start pulling away from the sides of the pan. You are there. BRAVO. Now, add some salt, some pepper, some nutmeg, and your grated parmesan and stir this together. Pour about a third of it into the prepared pan, and add the fava beans. Stir them around and then flatten out the layer. Now add the second third, and on top of that, place your sliced cheese and the artichokes. Finally, the last third of polenta, and the peas. Swirl those in. Cover all of this with plastic or paper, and let it cool. When it's cool, refrigerate it overnight.
While it is still cold, run a knife around the sides of the loaf, and gently turn it upside down on a plate. You'll hear a mild "whoosh, and out will come your loaf. Just like below. if it's a little messy, fix it by pushing things back. It isn't that hard, and it will look fine.
If you serve this cold, or at room temperature, everything will cohere nicely. If you warm it, the cheese will melt, and your structure will be somewhat lost, but it will still be good. Annalena has eaten it both ways and she finds it more than good.
So, all my polenta eaters out there, break some rules, and cook polenta the dellacucina way. And let Annalena know how it goes.
Signora Jacopo, buon auguri.
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