What We Eat When We Eat Alone - Deborah Madison [13]
“The crisp parts are the good parts, after all,” he explains, “but it does look a bit plain and jumbled.” To remedy the situation, he slices a ball of fresh mozzarella and stews it over the polenta. “But,” he adds helpfully, “if you don’t have mozzarella, it would work just as well with Gorgonzola or some leftover crumbs of another blue cheese. Or any cheese, really,”
“I had a lid, but it was too small, so I propped it up against the spatula, which was resting in the pan.” Patrick was cooking at his studio, not at home, which isn’t perfectly equipped with matching lids and pans. “It covered everything just enough to melt the cheese. I served it up. Black pepper and red pepper flakes went on top. And when I saw that more of that good crusty stuff was stuck to the pan, I just scraped it out and added it to the plate.”
Messy or not, don’t you know this would be good? I wished I had been there. If I had, I would have chopped a little fresh thyme for the polenta, made a salad, and brought out those leftover poached pears that Patrick had apparently overlooked. But that’s what happens when another person joins in. What was a perfectly good single-plate, one-pan dinner for a solitary diner suddenly becomes a full-fledged multidish meal for two.
Polenta works for another Arkansan also named Patrick. Because he likes to cook and doesn’t mind spending a little time in front of the stove, it’s not surprising that this was easy to make into a shareable recipe. Patrick McKelvey seasons his freshly cooked polenta with a pinch of marjoram, then pours it onto a lightly oiled plate. “While it sets up, I slowly sauté a mashed garlic clove and a thinly sliced onion until soft. I wilt a handful of greens in the onion mixture, chop a couple of slices of prosciutto and toss them in for the last few minutes. Then I let it catch its breath. I pour all of this over the polenta, which I’ve now sliced up, and grate some Parmesan over that. Pour a glass of red wine and that’ll do.”
By the way, polenta is not hard to make from scratch, and you absolutely do not have to stir it for an hour—or even for a half-hour—unless, of course, you want to. You also don’t have to let it set, although that takes only a few minutes. You can spoon it warm and soft onto a plate and pile the greens on top.
The Galisteo Inn, which is practically next door to us, had polenta with a vegetable ragout on the menu one night. It looked especially tempting to a robust, dreadlock-sporting African American potter named Sam Harvey, and a discussion about its possibilities ensued. Sam liked the sound of the dish because it reminded him of what he cooks for himself.
“When I eat alone, which is most of the time,” Sam said, “I put on grits and after they’ve cooked for ten or fifteen minutes, I throw in some vegetables and fresh garlic. I use frozen veggies out of the bag. Peas are good, and so is corn, but any vegetable will do. Then I finish with some grated Parmesan. I have this for breakfast and for lunch. But for dinner I throw the frozen veggies in a skillet with olive oil, add water, sardines from a can or that other fish with a rich taste—anchovies!—maybe cubes of tofu or chunks of whatever protein is on sale. And I make a salad with olive oil and lemon juice for a dressing.”
I was impressed that Sam made the dressing for his salad. Finally, here was someone who wasn’t seduced by the false promises of bottled dressings built on dull oils, xantham gums, and corn syrup. But as a vegetable lover, I was somewhat dismayed by all those frozen veggies. But Sam spoke up for them as others have. “Frozen vegetables are terribly underrated. There are so many kinds and they don’t go bad! You can break off just what you want to use and return the rest to the freezer without worry.”
In the end, Sam ordered the salmon because, after all, grits and vegetables are what he cooks every day, and I had the polenta. And in the spirit of