Of turkey, red peppers and polenta

On a recent holiday week-end, we decided to gather at my daughter’s house.  She shares a rental house with two friends in the south sound, and we decided since they have the best kitchen and a large dining room set, we would gather there for our Easter meal.  No one was terribly interested in the traditional ham or lamb, so we went with turkey.

Despite being taken out of the freezer two days before, the turkey is still partially frozen when I start cooking.  (deep sigh).  So struggle number one for the day: getting the turkey prepped.

Before I go any further, I should say a few works about my daughter and her roommate T.  T (whose name I will not use until he gives me permission) is a vegetarian.  That’s okay.  I often eat vegetarian for days at a time.  T is not a zealot about this—he is not trying to force everyone to follow his vegetarian ways.  But a turkey dinner cooked in his house means we need another main dish option, which his mom is going to provide—a tofurkey. 

But vegetarians cannot live by tofurkey alone.  And as I struggle with my turkey, T starts a homemade polenta, with roasted red pepper.  Turning to me, he asks if he can use the oven for a few moments to roast his pepper. 

Distracted by the slightly frozen turkey I am tackling, I tell him to go ahead.  I had already gotten it preheating.  Thirty minutes later my turkey is finally ready to go into the oven.  In it goes, the timer is set, and I go sit down for a bit. 

Fast forward 45 minutes—I go out to the kitchen and find that my turkey is already browning nicely.  Seems quick, but I check the thermostat and it is set at the correct temp.  A few moments later, my daughter notices what I had not: the oven was set to broil.  They have a separate dial for bake or broil.  We quickly change it back to bake, but I worry—what will this have done to my turkey?

So, I wouldn’t recommend broiling at the start of baking a turkey, but it turns out that it is an amazingly moist turkey when it is done.  I have always cooked turkey at  325 degrees for a long time.  That is what my cookbook suggests.  But as T’s mother explains, she often starts her turkey on higher heat for 30 or so minutes—it has a similar effect to a quick braise on the stove top for a roast, sealing in the moisture.  Apparently our broiler accident had a similar effect.  I won’t do it quite that way again, but I am going to try my next turkey on a high heat start.

T’s mom has her own adventures for this meal.  Tofurkey, it turns out, is easy to find at Thanksgiving and Christmas, not so much so at Easter.  She had to go to quite a few stores to find one.

Despite our series of dinner challenges, it was served on time, and it was great!  T’s polenta was creamy and delicious, and reminded me how great this dish can be when you take the time to make it right.  T used a freshly roasted red pepper, wonderful Fontina Cheese, and home-made polenta to come up with a creamy side dish that was wonderful. 

What’s polenta?  Well, it was an Italian dish, and the word itself comes from the Latin puls or pulmentum or more commonly as gruel or porridge.  Before corn was brought to Europe from the New World it was commonly made from chestnut or chickpea flour (who knew?).  Today it is commonly made from corn meal, which can be bought in the bulk section of many grocery stores.  You can use standard cornmeal, or the more coarsely ground cornmeal, depending on how smooth you want your polenta.

This is one of those cases where the Italians take a simple grain (cornmeal) and turn it into something great simply via preparation.  Stirring this a lot while it is cooking results in a creamier texture, as does using milk for at least part of the liquid.  It reminds me in this sense of risotto, which takes rice and slowly cooks in the liquid to make that wonderful, creamy rice dish.

If you make polenta, count on spending 45 minutes at the stove stirring.  But make a big pot, and you can eat it for a couple of days.  I have been known to spread part of it in a cake pan, about ¾ inch thick and put it in the fridge.  Then you can take a piece and reheat it or fry it (it is really good fried!) and eat topped with fresh tomato sauce (or pasta sauce).  

For every 1/4 cup of polenta, you will want 1 cup of liquid.  The liquid can be water or broth, or you can substitute part of the liquid with milk.  When it is thick (really thick!) you can throw in some cheese: Fontina is good.  So it Parmesan, but for this you don't want to use parma from a can--use fresh.  Fresh herbs are good--I like sage or basil, but play with it.    Because playing with your food is good for you:)

On Planting a Garden . . .

In April I checked to make sure may name was still on the waiting list for a pea patch in the Proctor Community Garden.  It was.  I added my name to a community garden closer to me, but wasn’t given much hope.

Then I got a call from church—they were resurrecting the church garden, and I could have a plot if I wanted. I did, but it was already early June. Too late to do much with seeds.  So I started buying vegetable starts.  I have three roma tomato plants, four zucchini (yes, that may be three too many, but I really like zucchini), two types of cucumbers, acorn squash, cauliflower, and bell peppers.  Then there are the herbs—basil, peppermint and lemon thyme.  I wanted sage, but couldn’t find any plants or seeds.  

The one thing I planted by seed was lettuce—which I have had little luck with to date.  But I have started more lettuce in my window at home, and will transplant it in a few days.  I figure that if I work it right, I can have lettuce from late July thru September.  

What do I hope for?  Enough produce to make the weeding and watering worth the effort. Meantime, had a great dessert of local raspberries and nectarines (which were at the peak of ripeness) over pound cake.  Yummy.  Must get some local berries to eat regularly . . . 

But planting a garden brings me to another thought.  The planting of a garden is an act of faith.  You plant seeds (or seedlings) and water them.  Weed around them, and maybe give them a little plant food.  But they are at the mercy of conditions you have little control over: animals, insects, weather, and other humans.

When you plant a garden, you are living in faith and hope that in a few weeks or months you will have this wonderful bounty to show for it.  

My father was a gardener.  When he bought the property he built the house on, he actually purchased multiple plots of land, so he could garden.  The land was rocky--every spring one of us kids would walk in front and another would walk behind dad as he went through with the rototiller; each of us carried a bucket to collect rocks.  By high school, I was sure that we should have picked every rock possible out of that garden, but year after year we still picked rocks.

But we also ate incredibly good food.  Fresh lettuce, home grown tomatoes, beets and carrots, corn and potatoes.  And cherries, grapes and plums from our own trees became jams and jellies that we would ear on toast in the winter, savoring the flavor of summer.

My dad was a child of the depression--born days after the 1929 crash of the stock market, to parents who farmed at the edge of the dust bowl, he understood the value of being self supporting.

So in my garden, I find memories of my dad.  I talk to him, knowing that somehow he would approve of my feeble little attempt to grow vegetables (well, everything except the peppers--dad hated peppers).  And I keep the faith--that there will be fresh tomatoes, wonderful lettuce, and zucchini enough to share with everyone.

Please God, help my garden grow:)

BTW, a great read on the topic of gardening (if you are looking to laugh) is "The $64 Tomato".  Re-read it after planting my garden, and laughed out loud in public (reading at the park).  His trials and tribulations with his home garden/farm will make anyone who has ever gardened laugh (especially if you have done battle with deer, ground hogs and squirrels over first rights to what you grow!).  William Alexander is the author.