The great thing about getting older is that you forget so much, everything is new! Recently, I made a batch of polenta because I was worried the recipe in my book might not be accurate. I was sure I’d never blogged about polenta, then checked old blogs and realized that, not only did I blog about it, I made four batches to be sure it was good. It was eleven years ago, but still! God help me…what will 90 be like?

Anyway, I did have polenta several times this week. It’s a great winter dish. My last polenta blog in 2015 featured my late Uncle Richard, so I’m re-posting it. This is a tribute to my sweet uncle who always made polenta on the coldest days, brought it to my dad’s house, and served it. It’s also a tribute to my dad, who was never too proud to eat “poor people” food.

It’s Polenta Time!

January 24, 2015

Polenta warms you perfectly on a cold day.

In Pennsylvania, in the depths of January, when it gets so cold you can see ice forming on the insides of windows — it’s time for polenta. Here in California, once it hits 60 or under, we shamelessly jump on the polenta bandwagon.

I wasn’t a big fan of polenta as a kid, not because of its taste, but because I saw it as poor people food. I rationalized that my parents were colorful and old fashioned — that’s why they picked dandelions in the front yard, foraged for mushrooms in the woods, went hunting and made polenta, a fancy Italian word for gruel. But sadly, polenta sat as creamy, golden proof of the ugly truth. We were definitely not rich.

Polenta, pesto, and all things Italian got really popular in the 80’s and 90s. You couldn’t go anywhere without being assaulted by tiramisu or polenta. But before its resurgence, polenta was food for poor people, and in the winter, when my dad didn’t have much bricklaying work, we made do with it. My mom made the sauce. My dad made the polenta. He loved it, probably because it reminded him of being a happy, but poor, child in Italy, who’d get an orange for Christmas and be thrilled. It was also the only thing Dad knew how to cook, besides rotisserie eels on Christmas Eve (another crowd pleaser). He never used a recipe.

Once my mom passed away, Dad’s cooking improved, but he never made polenta anymore. Lucky for him, Uncle Richard; a great cook, always came over on the coldest days and made a giant pot. He never used a recipe either.

All it involves is water, cornmeal and salt. I figured, how hard can it be? So, I looked up a recipe and followed it. Too salty. Then I tried it again, too thin. Then I decided to ask Uncle Richard, which is like asking a squirrel how it hides nuts. It’s instinct; squirrels don’t think about it and I’ve never heard of one explaining how it’s done.

So, I readily forgive him his inability to quantify his polenta recipe — he’s Italian — what was I thinking? Italians will face death by firing squad before coughing up a recipe, because they’re working on instinct.

I’ve been stressing over this blog, wanting to make a killer polenta recipe. As I said, I tried it a few times.  Talking with Uncle Richard forced me to worry less about the recipe and trust my instincts. Here’s the conversation:

“So, Uncle, how do you make polenta, what’s your recipe?”

“You know I don’t use a recipe. I just cook it! You get water and boil it, then mix your cornmeal with water and make a slurry. Then add it to the boiling water and keep stirring.”

“But how much water?”

“I don’t know — about two quarts.”

“And how much corn meal Uncle?”

“I don’t know, I don’t measure.”

“Well, if you had to guess?”

“Maybe one or two cups, if it gets too thick — add more water.”

“And what about salt?”

“Just add it toward the end, taste it and if it needs salt, add it.”

“How much salt?”

“Just taste it!  If it needs salt, add it!”

See what I mean?  It’s easier to move mountains than get a recipe out of an Italian. My attempts without Uncle Richard’s quasi-recipe were OK. With it, they improved. I even checked Food Network because I wanted to try one that’s a little richer.

Emeril Lagasse had a good one. My dad and Uncle Richard’s basic recipes are good and healthy, but like a good American, I thought I’d try something a little richer/trashier. I think I found it.

The good news is polenta is versatile. Just like pasta, you can serve it with pasta sauce and sausage or vegetables or whatever.

The first batch I made was topped with pasta sauce and sausage. My second batch had pesto and sausage, my third batch was crowned with mushrooms, zucchini and sausage and my fourth batch featured caramelized onions, bacon bits and roasted brussels sprouts (my kids idea). My favorite was the dish topped with tomato sauce and sausage. I guess the dish I didn’t want to like as a kid has grown on me.

So, before January freezes you solid, whip up some polenta. You should warm up nicely by Groundhog Day!

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Dad and Uncle Richard’s Polenta

Emeril Lagasse’s Creamy Polenta from Food Network