On a budget? Allergic or sensitive? Need to feed a crowd on a budget? Like delicious and deceptively impressive things? CORNMEAL. That’s what. 

This week’s installment refers to the poured variety known fancily as “polenta”. I think when people hear “polenta” they think “elaborate” and “fussy”. But actually, polenta is the friendliest, hardest-to-screw-up, blank canvas thing ever. It’s just dried up corn that you heat up with some water (or milk, white wine, or stock if you are  into that) and season the shit out of. That’s it!

You should think of poured polenta as a vehicle for other tasty things you want to stretch even further. Once it is cooked, it can literally be poured out onto a platter, into bowls, or (if you want to get super chefy about it) onto a flat piece of wood or cutting board, and then topped with anything from ratatouille (seen above), sautéed mushrooms, caramelized onions, your favorite pasta sauce, scrambled eggs, you get the point. Once the polenta starts to cool, it sets in this really pleasing way that actually allows you to cut into it. The longer it sets, the more firm it becomes. 
 
I like serving polenta at supper clubs because 1) it is delicious 2) I can top it with anything my heart desires and 3) if I pour it out in front of people, it makes them feel like something extravagant is happening. And everyone needs to feel extravagant sometimes. Just look (right) at how happy all of my guests are about this poured polenta!

Here is a guide to help you on your way to poured polenta grandeur:

1) Start with polenta. Or grits. Or stone-ground cornmeal. It’s really all the same thing. The only rule here is NOT to use semolina, which is corn that is ground super finely almost into a powder. Semolina is awesome, but not for making polenta. Get the stuff that looks gritty. 

2) Cook the polenta according to the package directions. And beware! This stuff splatters as it gets thick and burns the shit out of your arms when you are cooking in your super cute tank tops. 

3) Consider replacing some of the water the package directions calls for with broth, stock, white wine, or milk (for a more creamy texture). Really, you can just take out a cup of the water the recipe calls for and replace it with the exact same amount of something else. Consider adding herbs and spices like garlic, rosemary, chili flakes, or black pepper. This isn’t a must, but I swear you really can’t go wrong. Cornmeal is so adaptive and it can really mesh well with almost any flavor you choose!


4) Definitely, DEFINTIELY season your cooking liquid with plenty of salt and pepper. If you don’t season the liquid, it will never taste salty enough. 

5) Consider finishing your polenta with some dairy or vegan-dairy product. Like butter. Or cream. Or parmesan cheese. Also, consider finishing your polenta with fresh herbs, even if you already used dried herbs in the cooking process. Trust me on this one. These are the steps that will make your final dish really special. 

Stay tuned for the next installment of "Cornmeal: Your many-trick one-trick pony" with Part II: Fried!

Confession: I created this dish in the dead of Summer, when tomatoes were abundant and ripe and at their sweet ‘n juicy prime. The recipe is a celebration of that time of year when it is unthinkable to have too many
tomatoes in any dish. But you know what? Globalization, that’s what. Inherently devastating to the earth? Yes. Are the tomatoes this time of year even worth the carbon footprint? No. But sometimes you just need that hit of summer after a day of trekking through snow, or after surviving weather that can only be explained using vortexes.

This recipe promises to transform even the saddest out-of-season tomatoes into something that will remind you of easier, sunnier times. We are talking tomatoes THREE ways here, and each preparation involves coaxing flavor
out of the fruit with all the polar rage you feel after one too many nights sleeping in a radiator-heated apartment over which you have no control. Summer is coming forcibly early, folks, if only in a stylish champagne flute.  

This is pretty damn near close to a perfect dish, if you ask me. It’s spicy, creamy, salty, savory, sweet, and simply inventive. Use it as a palate cleanser (like I did here ----->) in between courses, or just eat it solo with a big hunk of crusty bread sitting directly on top of your radiator with all the lights on and wearing your sunglasses. Best I can do until June. Godspeed. 

For the granita:
2 lbs fresh tomatoes (it really doesn’t matter what
kind)
2 fresh red chilies (I like fresno or red jalapenos, but you can really use any fresh chili here)
Salt and pepper
Olive oil
1 bunch of basil
 
For the tomato oil
6-10 sundried tomatoes (I know, I know, they are passé, but we aren’t snobs)
2 cloves of garlic
1 cup olive oil
Salt & pepper
 
For the other stuff
2 cups of ricotta cheese (I make mine homemade by following this recipe, but use store-bought if you value having extra time on your hands) 
1 pint of fresh cherry tomatoes
Basil to garnish

Begin by making the granita. Turn your oven on to 400° and slice all the tomatoes in half. Cover them with olive oil,
salt, and pepper, and throw them into the oven on a baking sheet with the whole red chilies for 60 minutes, or until they begin to give up their juices (sexy) and get a little dark on the outside.

Meanwhile get started on the oil. Put the sundried tomatoes, garlic, and olive oil into a small saucepan and turn the heat to medium-low. Let this cook until the garlic is soft (about 30 minutes). *Make sure to use a lid, or else you will get oil-splattered and that’s not a cute look. Throw the contents into a food processor or blender and process until it is all broken down. Throw in a few really generous pinches of salt and pepper and taste it! The oil should taste, well, oily, but it should also taste like tomatoes. Put the oil in the fridge until you need it later.

Return to the tomatoes in the oven. Once they are nice and soft, throw everything except the chilies into  a food processor or blender and process until it is smooth. (Keep the oven on though in order to make the burst cherry tomatoes later). Add one of the whole chilies, half of the basil, and a generous pinch of salt and pepper. Taste it!
Continue to season until this mixture tastes rich and tomato-ey. 
 
Pour the mixture into a shallow glass baking dish and throw it in the freezer. After an hour, come back and scrape up the mixture. Return every hour and scrape it until it freezes into fluffy tomato crystals. 

Make the burst cherry tomatoes by tossing them whole with olive oil, salt, and pepper, and roasting them in the oven until they have literally burst open (about 20 minutes). Set them aside.

Whew. Assemble: Layer the granita, the ricotta, and the oil in a glass, a mason jar, or champagne flute.
Top with a burst tomato, a little more oil, and fresh basil leaves. 

Enjoy. 
 


     




 

So here’s the deal. Elegance is all in the head. “Elevated” food is just simple food that is made really well and stylishly plated. So when I host a supper club, most of what I serve is really just comfort food that I put a lot of thought into and serve in a beautiful way. So when I know that all the flavors of my classic, rustic, not-at-all-fussy Jewish mock chopped liver (pictured above) will play well on my vegetarian charcuterie board, I sell it as “Green Pea & Walnut Pâté” (pictured below) and suddenly Bubbie food is Saturday night fare. It’s not a trick. It’s just re-branding.

Whatever you want to call it, this spread is absolutely delicious, easy to prepare, can be kept in the refrigerator for over a week, and obviously dressed up or dressed down as you see fit. Try spreading it on a sandwich instead of mayo or mustard. Serve it alongside crackers and grapes for a cocktail hour nosh. Spoon it into a fancy terrine mold and put it on a charcuterie board. Pâté or Mockchop, whatever you do, don’t apologize for it. It’s not pretty until you tell people it is. 

• 2 large yellow onions
  
• oil for frying
  
• Cognac, brandy, or some other brown liquor (this is entirely optional) 
  
• 2 cans of green peas, drained (don’t even think about using fresh or frozen)
  
• 4 hard boiled eggs, peeled 
  
• 1 bunch of fresh dill
  
• a few handfuls of walnuts
  
• salt & pepper
  
• garnish (optional): diced raw onion, chopped hardboiled egg, toasted walnut halves, fresh dill
  

Coarsely chop the onions and throw them into a large skillet with enough oil to coat the bottom. Cook the onions on medium-low heat and stir them occasionally until they get very soft and start to brown. 

When the onions are done cooking, pour in a few glugs of the liquor, and scrape the bottom of the pan until all the delicious oniony bits come up. Cook everything for another minute until the astringent alcohol taste cooks off. Turn off the heat and set aside. 

Put the peas, the eggs, half of the dill, and the walnuts into the bowl of a food processor* and pulse until it all comes together. Add the onions and pulse again, scraping down the sides of the bowl. Add a generous pinch of salt and black pepper and pulse again. This mixture doesn’t need to be totally smooth (unless you want it that way), but it should be pretty homogenously incorporated. TASTE IT. Add more salt, pepper, and dill until you are happy with the way it tastes.

Enjoy.

*Don’t have a food processor? No worries! Just chop everything as finely as you can get it and mash it with a fork.