Very scary things have been said about
polenta. It’s pasty. It needs to be fussed over or it’s all lumps
and bumps. It burns if you so much as glance at it
wrong.
But here is the secret. It has to be
stirred. And this can’t be hurried. That’s it.
It knows what it needs. And what it
needs is an hour to be ready. So do not rush it, thankyouverymuch.
Making polenta is mediation by way of cornmeal.
I felt this needed to be discussed for a few
reasons. One. Because I had an early dinner with my brother a few
weeks ago and the man revealed he has yet to latch on to the right polenta
recipe. Since he owns my great grandmother’s hand crank cavatelli maker—and
has used it—I can assure you his polenta void is not for lack of wont.
Two. Because at said dinner at a
trendy-new-restaurant-which shall-remain-nameless, we had a side of farro that
was barely passable. Sad and pale and bored. (Like a New Englander
trudging through March April.) And this should simply not be the case
for Italian grains that require so little to taste delicious.
Three. Because I recently visited Misty Brook Farm and have fallen for their Early Riser cornmeal, which they
also feed to their pigs and chickens. And I hope this balances out some
of the implied elitism when I say it’s organic, meaning it’s a non-GMO (a rarity),
and from a local farm. Any food that’s fed to both farm animals and
humans can’t be too highbrow. In fact, I hope we can come to live in a
world where people say, “If it’s good enough for the pigs, it’s good enough for
me.”
During my research, I also stumbled across
this quote from an online garden supply store about using Early Riser: “Chickens
will produce eggs with deep golden yolks, cows love it, and it makes a
high quality cornmeal for us humans as well.” Now, cows aren't
technically supposed to eat corn. But that aside, it’s ground so fine and
delicate that it makes the creamiest polenta known to man.
But you still have to stir it.
So do your dishes while it gently bubbles
on the stovetop. Or, better yet, grab a book and a bottle of wine and head to the kitchen.
This is precisely how I became well acquainted with both Nigel Slater’s recipe
for root vegetable korma and a fantastic Umbrian Sunday dinner red from The Wine Bottega. (Both of which I highly recommend.) You don’t have to be
chained to the range, but you really don’t want to stray
too far for too long.
You see. The key is stirring, and patience. This makes a
high quality polenta for us humans, as well.
Early Riser
Polenta
Ingredients:
5 cups water
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus additional,
to taste
1 cup cornmeal
2 tablespoons (1 ounce) butter
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
Pinch of crushed red pepper
Black pepper, to taste
Instructions:
In a 2-quart saucepan, bring the water to a
simmer. Add the salt and then slowly whisk in the cornmeal.
Continue to whisk until any lumps dissolve.
Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook the
cornmeal for about an hour, stirring regularly to prevent any lumps from
forming. The cornmeal will bubble occasionally; if it starts to sputter
and splatter, turn down the heat.
The polenta is done when it is
creamy and has reduced roughly by half. (It should not taste floury or
raw, if it does, cook it longer.) Stir in the butter,
cheese, and crushed red pepper. Taste and adjust for seasoning.
Serve hot.
Makes about 3 cups
Notes:
-I’ve made the recipe with standard yellow polenta
(typically medium or coarse ground cornmeal), as well. (You can find Early Riser at Misty Brook Farm here.)
-If your polenta is looking too dry, add in
a drizzle of water.
-The vegetable korma is a great way to use up any winter roots you may still have lying around. (The recipe is from Tender.)
I don't think I've ever cooked polenta for that long. I don't really know why, but when I make polenta, I usually turn to this Peter Berley recipe for quantities, even though I always end up adding lots more water and cooking it for longer than it states. Obviously, I should just start with a different recipe! I'll have to try this soon.
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