The last memorable polenta dish I had was in Venice, Italy at the osteria Al Four Feri — a family-run, hole-in-the-wall but traditional, you can hardly move inside, and the white plates of food were almost as large as your tiny window table smacked across the bar it was a feat busy Friday night dining was accomplished spatially, but that’s the old world for you — and the romance of it all never died; (with the lingering scent of grilled langoustines on the creamy polenta with vin santo wine, how could it?) This travel background (though an old memory) is important to write for two reasons: one, it was why I was inspired to buy the coarse polenta meal at Mana Foods this morning; and second, polenta is deceptively one of the hardest grains to cook perfectly and since the holidays are coming (Thanksgiving in three weeks), I have to recheck my culinary techniques for precision, hopefully achieving something as close as possible to how I remembered the exquisite polenta at Al — and I will include it on the menu.
The dried figs in the plastic bag (from the bulk section) burst at the seam at check out and the cashier put it aside and I said it was alright I’ll just take the preserved dates (I plan to infuse the cooking liquid for my polenta with medjool and figs for hints of fruitiness, and salt it nice and evenly after with butter.) Polenta is from corn as you know, and breaking down even its powder version is stubbornly hard, and because coarse ground meal means haphazard-cut grains, it is difficult to emulsify evenly and that’s why constant stirring and replenishing of hot infused-water is essential to tie up all the grains to a smooth porridge consistency — ironically the hardest grain to dissolve is the powdered form (it’s like eating sand when uncooked); so the trick is patience and low heat over the pot uncovered, and time — you have to relax in the cooking and waiting as if on the beach imagining “the ocean to come wash up to the grains of sand.” But in the rest of the polenta meal come its natural creaminess and maple. And it’s worth standing in the kitchen for long.
When I serve my polenta this holiday (and other legumes dishes), I will think of food as the gathering element that shines a light in our hearts, with the traditions we remember and celebrate with family. True that some traditions fade in time and connections wither - they are a matter of course - but food can bring them all back with hospitable intentions and sharings, there will be new friends in your life (or even a new home with a new someone, or albeit you're still alone after once belonging to an old tradition) so long as you cook with delight and savor all your memories in them, you will not "go hungry" in spirit. You will be remembered, too, for the devotion that comes with your food— and in the love letters you keep for them.
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