Chasing the new favorite
Dear friends,
For my birthday, my godson made me a bowl he'd thrown and then decorated with little sculpted fox figures climbing up the side, peering over the rim to look for the soup. It's my favorite thing he's made so far, joyous and expressive. And I told him that--but I hesitated.
Why? Well, "favorite thing yet" is a high bar to set, and the odds are pretty good that most of what he makes won't reach that level. He's a sculptor who makes a lot of different things. I get it! And if you're on this newsletter you've seen it in action: I make a lot of different things. In some ways I'd like each of them to be your favorite yet--only improving, forward into the future!--but that's not actually how it works. Sometimes I'm trying out a technique or a concept that's new to me and needs more practice than the stuff I've already done. Worth doing--but unlikely to produce your new fave. Favorites often depend on personal taste, and that's impossible to only do more intensely every time, for every one of you. Also, people encounter my work in a different order than I wrote it: the new story I have out for July was written before the new story I have out for April, but several other pieces that are still forthcoming were written between them.
I still think it was worth telling my godson when he made something that was my new favorite, though, in part BECAUSE it won't happen all the time. It's no shade on the rest of what he's doing. It's just a reminder that sometimes all the effort we're putting into learning and growing actually works. It's okay if it takes some time for him to make my next favorite. I'm here, and I believe in him...and who knows if the piece I'm writing today will be his next favorite thing I've made? But I can't focus on that. I can just make it the best I can make it, today, and know that it'll work out to be someone's new fave, some of the time. Or the next thing will.
My new July story in Nature Futures is Things I Miss About Civilization...a scientist, a slightly broken spaceship, and the sparse gaseous clouds between the stars. I don't get to use my undergraduate summer interstellar spectroscopy research very much, and it's only in here as flavoring, but it's still a fond memory, one I was glad to bring back this time around.
I promised I'd give you a link when a previous story came out in print form, for those who prefer that to digital, and here it is: If There's Anyone Left Vol. 5, featuring my story, The Things You Know, The Things You Trust, is now available in your choice of formats.
We're into the season here in Minnesota--or at least in my garden--where we have to check every day for green beans and cherry tomatoes. The big tomatoes, eggplant, cucumbers, and carrots are a bit slower, and the tomatillos haven't started yet, but that's all right, I have plenty of ideas for what to do with fresh cherry tomatoes. And here's one now!
Excelsior,
Marissa
Summer Polenta Supper
I have been watching the two TV series where Stanley Tucci wanders around Italy eating Italian food, and they are delightful. On Wednesday I had the thought, "But you know who else likes polenta? It is me, Marissa." And this is what emerged for supper. None of it is difficult, but it dirtied a lot of dishes, and I was not even a little bit sorry.
This is a recipe that can be messed with a lot to no great ill effects. If you don't eat dairy, use olive oil and don't put in the cheese. If you want to add diced eggplant or bell pepper to the mushrooms, go ahead, it'll be nice. If you don't do capsaicin, leave the pepper flakes out. It's all good. There are enough things to stress about in life without stressing over your summer polenta supper.
So first: wash about a pint of cherry tomatoes and peel several cloves of garlic--I used six or eight I think? Toss those with a splash of olive oil and a dash of salt and throw them under the broiler to blister. How fast this happens depends on your broiler--under mine it took about 12 minutes, but I checked them periodically--but you can also roast them for more like 25-30 minutes in a hot oven if you prefer (and thought of this in time). You want some caramelization and burst tomatoes; you don't want them completely pulverized.
While those are cooking, dice up some mushrooms and sauté them. I used about 2 oz of criminis because that's what I had in the back of the fridge not getting any fresher. More or less of other mushrooms you like for this sort of thing will also be great. Set the mushrooms aside. (If it's time for the tomatoes to come out of the oven before you're ready with the rest, set those aside too.)
Then start the polenta. You want to melt about 2 T of butter and stir in 1/2 c cornmeal. Then stir in 2 c. of vegetable broth. Can be chicken broth if that's what you like, or mushroom broth, or whatever. Can even be water but it's not going to be as flavorful that way. Stir carefully to make sure you don't have giant dry cornmeal lumps. You're going to want to cook it until you have a fairly soft, porridge-y polenta texture. Toward the end of the cooking time, you're going to throw in six or eight basil leaves you chopped or tore up, if you've got them, and also a couple tablespoons of honey and a half a teaspoon of red pepper flakes. At the very end throw in maybe 1/3 c. of shredded Asiago (or Parmesan or whatever you have that you like--also this is, like most things about this recipe, not a precisely required amount). Stir so the cheese is melted in.
While you're doing that, on another burner fry or poach your eggs to taste. I like a fried egg crispy edges and runny yolk for this purpose, some of my family members only want poached or only want absolutely set yolks, whatever, do it how you like it.
And then you're going to assemble: polenta on the bottom, then mushrooms, cherry tomatoes and garlic, egg. Should make four one-egg portions or two two-egg portions, so it really depends on your appetite.