Polenta. Peasant food of Gods. "Grits with a college education," as one wise customer put it.
Thickly ground cornmeal, originating in husk of sweet yellow or white corn, dried, grounded, pounded, whisked and cooked, preferrably over a double boiler, 5 parts to 1, water to cornmeal.
PHASE 1:
A porridge like pot of mush appears. There is no better way to state it. Polenta, in this state, is soft, warm, nourishing, and good. Add butter, olive oil, grated parmiggiano-reggiano (perhaps a pecorino romano instead) heck, you can use the powder-fine grated parm in the green grocery store bottle; it will taste good. Serve in bowls as appetizer, side dish, minced parsley on top. This soft polenta is easy on the eyes on a cold, winter day.
PHASE 2:
Instead of eating your mush, oil a glass baking dish. Pour. Let the polenta pudding harden/cool at room temp. Slip it in the fridge to speed up the process.
Now your universe begins to unfold. You can cover it with pumpkin-seed pesto and run under the oven. You can top with marinara, melt mozzarella on top and rock out with toppings of olives, artichoke hearts, and diced green bell pepper, pizza-style. You can kick it like Napolean, sliced thin and layered a la stack, with bits of basil, roasted red bell pepper, and grilled zuchinni in the middle.
Vegan? Vegetarian? Do as you like. The Gods do not discriminate.
$40 plate? Certainly. Will quick grits work? Without a doubt.
This is PhD cornmeal, my friends, and you can go as earthy, or heavenly, as you like. Grab your wooden spoon, and stir, baby, stir.
1/4 teaspoon of salt should be added per cup of corn grits.
When he ain't stirring Polenta, Ian Finn be doing THIS.
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