Growing up I never really liked polenta. My grandmother would frequently cook the gritty yellow mash and I’d just kind of eat it with this muted disdain, asking for something else after I was done. I remember her customarily cooking it in water and then serving a warm bowl fresh from the stove but I’ve had it a number of ways: boiled in water, boiled in chicken stock, cooled and then pan-fried and of course cooled and simply topped with parmesan. Nowadays I’ve somehow developed a deeper appreciation for the yellow stuff and I actually find myself craving that deep, luxurious corn flavor which can readily be summed up as comforting.
Polenta is a typical Northern Italian dish that we’d have in some form or another just about every time we visited family. Maybe this is what slowly developed my admiration for the meal over the years, or maybe it was just my ever-developing palette when growing up (something I know all to well now with my young son — one week he loves chicken the next week he’s moved on to something better), either way you’re sure to find a bag of polenta in my pantry at all times.