Polenta

Polenta.

It almost sounds a little exotic, doesn't it?

I'm here to tell you that it's not exotic...it's cornmeal mush. (But it's darn good and satisfying with Italian, Mediterranean, and Latin cuisines) I'm also here to tell you that if you are spending 6.99 or whatever it is on one of those moisty, semi-firm logs of it in the ethnic food aisle at the grocery store then you are a spendthrift. Because polenta is cornmeal and water. And the 2.19 you spend on a big box of cornmeal is 2.19 wisely invested because it is likely to last you months. Further, I would be remiss if I failed to mention that your cornmeal-and-water-polenta is going to taste so much better than those preformed logs that go vaguely chemical on the tongue.

I know all of this to be true because I just ate the best polenta in the world: my own 2-month old polenta pulled out of the freezer.

Mi esposo and I have recently been traveling and having gotten in late last night and then out the door again early for work this morning, I have not had time to get to the grocery store to restock our bare shelves. (And when I say my shelves are bare, I am not being dramatic to hit a point home to you, dear readers. My shelves are Old Mother Hubbard bare) I had to zoom straight home from work today, still unable to pause at the shops, in order to take care of a paperwork matter, after which I realized I was quietly starving to death, having had no lunch and all.

Empty as my kitchen is, I absently looked into the fridge anyway. The refrigerator held nothing but some spinach, but it still appeared reasonably serviceable, and some half-empty bottles of condiments. The freezer had the ever-present container of chicken stock, but it's too hot for soup, and lurking way in the back was some polenta, leftover from a dinner months ago. I had forgotten it was there.

Polenta and spinach...maybe with a creamy dressing of some sort (one of those condiments in the fridge!)...that sounded like a lunch I could deal with, so in an act of kitchen desperation, I pulled those things out and tossed them all into microwave. Now, I'll be damned, but that frozen-then-thawed polenta tasted better than the day I made it... and the texture was culinary-school perfect: firm on the outside, yielding to a tender, creamy center. Friends, that lunch was PERFECT. Never mind that it was my only choice.

You really should make your own polenta--so inexpensive, so fast, so easy, so GOOD! I'm posting my "recipe", although it's not mine or anyone's in particular, and you can make variations of this to your heart's desire (substitute milk for water...substitute grits for conrmeal...try different grinds of cornmeal...make it thick...make it thin...etc....etc.....). My only caution is to be very mindful of whisking or stirring constantly and be sure to turn your flame/cooktop down to a low setting. Getting hot cornmeal on your skin is exquisitely painful. A lapful of hot grits from a jilted lover is what made ladies-man crooner Al Green come back to the straight and narrow path. Ga'head...look it up. Don't let my cautionary tale scare you into continuing on buying the sub-standard pre-made polenta, but just please keep an eye on your hot pot.

POLENTA

-4 C water
-1 C cornmeal
-salt, to taste

-cream, milk, butter, or cheese (all optional)

Bring your water to a rolling boil in a medium, non-tippy saucepan (FYI--I salt my water first, but you don't have to). When boiling, gradually add the cornmeal in a very slow, steady stream, whisking constantly. Keep whisking, and as you begin to feel the mixture thicken, lower the heat. Keep the pot on very low, stirring or whisking frequently, until the mixture seems thick but tender (no gritty pieces). For looser, mashed-potato-style polenta, add more water, milk, or cream and butter. For firmer polenta, remove from heat, pour into a pie pan or terrine pan, cover and cool. It will get more firm, even slice-able, as it cools.

It freezes beautifully and tastes wonderful with every vegetable under the sun.