Ancient Grains for Modern Meals - Maria Speck [99]
The most memorable meal I had during a one-year stint in India was equally hungrily awaited, a dinner at the home of our friend, Sonal. I had asked her to teach me her brilliant mini-eggplants stuffed with spicy chickpea flour, a labor-intensive delicacy. At the time, Sonal was a busy social worker. It was already 9:00 P.M. when we reached her house after shopping for ingredients. A group of friends had arrived, eagerly awaiting Sonal’s cooking, yet my friend didn’t rush. I’m sure she was just as starved as all of us when she came home after a long, exasperating workday. While I, increasingly famished, took notes, she went patiently through all the steps needed to clean and prepare the small shiny eggplants, to make the aromatic chickpea flour filling, and to cook the vegetables to perfection, first in a pressure cooker, and then sautéed on a bed of roasted garlic, green chiles, and cilantro leaves. The eggplants were just one part of an amazing multicourse dinner she dished up that night for her friends. Near midnight, when we finally all sat down on the floor of her apartment, as is customary, the lively group became suddenly quiet. And once I popped one of the small, supple-soft eggplant packages into my mouth, the endless wait was forgotten.
My own impatience was (and still is) at odds with my lifelong passion for whole grains. Some whole grains can be slow to put on the table. They force you to think ahead. It is thus no surprise that at times I simply don’t cook “slow” whole grains such as hulled barley, Kamut, or spelt. Instead, I fall back on quick-cooking bulgur, buckwheat, couscous, or quinoa—until, one day, the memory of the delicious chew of a wheat berry, the alluring sweetness of whole oats, or the delicious tang of whole rye will haunt me, creeping into my brain during a busy day, incessantly knocking away until I get home. Then I put out some crackers, olives, and a few cubes of cheese to tide me over. And I dream up a slow home-cooked meal, a dinner worth waiting for. Then I light the stove.
Artichoke-Rosemary Tart with Polenta Crust
If you find classic tart crusts intimidating, try this super-easy polenta crust, which doesn’t require a rolling pin or a baker’s touch. With an aromatic artichoke filling atop a cheese-flavored polenta, this savory tart is perfect for a barbecue or a beach party, where you can also offer it as a delicious starter. Best of all, it can and must be prepared ahead—it takes about two hours, but much of it is plain waiting. Pour a glass of chilled rosé or prosecco and enjoy a piece with a salad of summer greens.
If using coarse stone-ground whole grain cornmeal instead of the polenta, reduce the amount of water to 1 cup, (see more on types of polenta). Instead of frozen, you can use canned or jarred artichoke hearts, in water or in a simple oil marinade. You will need 2 cans or jars (12 to 14 ounces each; a few will be left over) and might have to cut the hearts in half. Leftover slices of this tart are great for the lunch box. Reheat in a microwave (1 to 2 minutes on high) or in a toaster oven (10 minutes). SERVES 4 AS A MAIN COURSE, OR 8 AS A STARTER
POLENTA CRUST
1½ cups low-sodium vegetable broth
1¼ cups water
½ teaspoon fine sea salt
1¼ cups polenta or corn grits
½ cup shredded Parmesan cheese (about 2½ ounces; use the large holes of a box grater)
1 large egg, at room temperature
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
ARTICHOKE CHEESE FILLING
1 cup plain whole-milk Greek yogurt
2 large eggs
½ cup finely chopped green onions (about 3)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1 tablespoon minced fresh rosemary ¼ teaspoon fine sea salt
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 (12-ounce) package frozen quartered artichoke hearts, thawed and drained