INGREDIENTS
3 to 4 quarts water
1 teaspoon salt
4 cups cornmeal
DIRECTIONS
Bring water and salt to a boil in a large pot.
Reduce heat slightly, and gradually pour in cornmeal while continuously stirring. The mixture will thicken and become harder to stir. Continue stirring until the spoon can stand upright in the mixture, and it easily pulls away from the sides of the pot.
Serve polenta with your favorite sauce, sausage and freshly grated parmesan cheese.
THE CATHOLIC KITCHEN
The recipe and reflection by Gina Tabacca Woodley, life-long parishioner at St. Mary Church (St. Teresa of Calcutta Parish) in Warren, where she has been involved in faith formation and is a member of the Parish Life Steering Committee
Polenta is considered a staple dish in Northern Italy, where my grandparents immigrated from in the early 1900’s. Simple ingredients made with simple kitchen utensils, this meal holds a special place in my heart. My father didn’t share many memories from his childhood, having lost his mother at the age of 11, but he did tell me that he remembered her serving polenta for dinner.
His uncles took turns stirring the mixture of hot salted water and cornmeal in a tall metal pot. As the mixture thickened, it became harder to stir. It was considered done when the polenta was so thick that the big spoon would stand up straight in the pot.
His father would dump the polenta in the center of a big wooden board that his mother also used to make her bread and pasta. She would form it into a large circle and pour her sauce on top, smoothing it all over. If there was money for meat, they had links of sausage with it. She would take a knife and make pie-shaped slices in the polenta. Everyone sat around the table and ate from the board, staying in their “pie slice” section.
They were an extended family, eating together at a table. In today’s world, family members often go in different directions, each having their own busy schedules. My father’s memories of a simpler time have a Rockwellian feeling to them. I got to experience this when I was attending college in Arizona—my aunt, my father’s sister, made polenta when my parents were visiting. It was a treasured memory.
Today, I have my own polenta board made for me by my cousin, so my father and his memories live on. I never really got to know my grandparents, but they passed on their traditions, customs and, most importantly, their faith and worship.
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