I Don't Even Know Who I Am Anymore: Polenta Casserole on Repeat

Actual image of the sauce if you don't let it cool

There’s a fair amount of variety in our kitchen. While I’ve been known to complain that my family doesn’t appreciate the variety and quality of the meals I cook for them, the truth is that I’m the one driven by novelty. “Favorites” are noteworthy not because everyone loves them, but because they’ve actually been served more than once or twice. I could reduce my bulging Things To Cook folder to just things I’ve already cooked once and it would still be ridiculous; if my lifespan was tied to cooking all the recipes I’ve saved and reading all the books on my TBR list, I’d basically be immortal.

Ever since she announced her plans to go to culinary school, Anna has begun amassing her own cookbook collection (dabbing tears from my eyes, apples and trees, etc etc). Naturally this means that I have to cook from them, because my own collection is clearly inadequate and lacking in options. (The blame for the fact that my collection has outgrown its dedicated bookshelf and crept into the living room shelves rests firmly upon Anna’s shoulders and has nothing whatsoever to do with any recent shopping on my part.)

One of my biggest issues about vegetarian meals is that I end up feeling hungry an hour later. If I eat enough to get me through to the next meal, I’ve probably overeaten and will either feel gross for the next 2 hours, fall asleep on the couch, or both. If it’s dinner, there may be a Girl Scout cookie binge afterwards. I’m not opposed to vegetarian options – meat is ungodly expensive right now and I’m trying to make healthier choices – but not being able to include gluten or dairy limits my options more than I’d like. It’s frustrating to find a recipe that I’m excited to try and realize that there’s not any feasible way to make the substitutions. John is basically a stomach on legs these days and Anna’s boyfriend is a frequent dinner guest, so scaling up a meal enough to feed all of us can be daunting. And John is still picky about the vegetables he’ll eat and the amount of spice he considers acceptable.

This vegetarian casserole scales up beautifully; it’s on the table in under an hour (considerably faster if you make the mushroom mixture in advance and use quick grits); and everyone will eat it. Round it out with a salad for some textural contrast and you’re all set for the evening – no cookie binge required. I almost always have the ingredients on hand, so I don’t even have to do advance planning (of course I do anyway. I’m a control freak in the kitchen). It’s everything I like and nothing I don’t and I’ve made it 3 times in 3 weeks, which should tell you everything you need to know

Adapted very slightly from The Complete Vegetarian Cookbook by America’s Test Kitchen. If anyone is going to get it right, it’s these guys. Any snarky editorial comments are entirely my own, because the test kitchen people get to cook with dairy.

Rustic Polenta Casserole with Mushrooms and Swiss Chard

4 cups water, or 3 cups water and 1 cup milk (if you eat dairy)
1 cup coarse-ground polenta (you can substitute grits if that’s what you have on hand; the polenta is great but I don’t always have it on hand)
1 cup Parmesan cheese, if you’re one of those lucky people who gets to eat dairy
3 Tbsp unsalted butter, or the inherently-less-satisfying substitute margarine of your choice. As if choice has anything to do with it.
3 Tbsp olive oil
1 onion, chopped fine. Use a big one.  
1 ½ lb white mushrooms, trimmed and sliced thin
3 (or 6) garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp dried thyme or 1 Tbsp fresh
1 28-oz can diced tomatoes
8 oz Swiss chard, de-stemmed and chopped, or 16 oz. baby spinach
4 oz fontina cheese, shredded, to top the ideal version of this casserole which contains dairy and is even better than the vegan version

 Heat 3 Tbsp oil in a large skillet, then add the onion and ½ tsp salt and cook until the onion is softened. Add the mushrooms and cook until they have released their liquid and are well-browned, about 25 minutes.

While the mushrooms are cooking, turn the oven on to 400. Bring the water to a boil, add a teaspoon of salt, and slowly stir in the polenta. (Don’t dump it all in at once or it’ll get lumpy and make you sad. No, I didn’t do this, but I did read “The Witch of Blackbird Pond” and I’ve never forgotten that scene for some reason.) Reduce the heat to low, cover, and cook until done, about 25 minutes. Take the pan off the heat and stir in the butter and Parmesan. Salt and pepper to taste, then spread the polenta in a 13x9 baking dish.

The mushrooms should be just about done by now. Stir in the garlic and cook for a minute or so. Add the tomatoes and their juice and simmer until the sauce has thickened, about 10 minutes. Stir in the greens a handful at a time and cook until wilted (if you dump them all in at once you will be sad and make a mess so don’t do that)(also a gas stove will set greens on fire if you happen to drop a few onto the burner. Don’t do that either). Salt and pepper to taste.

Spread the mushroom mixture over the polenta, and sprinkle with the fontina if you’re allowed to. Bake 10-15 minutes. Don’t ignore the instructions to let this cool for 5 minutes or so before eating, or you’ll scorch the top of your mouth with the molten lava sauce.

I have no idea if this reheats well because we’ve never, ever had leftovers no matter how much I make.

 

 

Checking ALL the Bloggable Boxes: Okonomiyaki

Anyone who’s ever read a recipe blog can attest that food and nostalgia are inextricably intertwined. There are plenty of entries (including mine) that start with long-winded accounts of how a particular food fits into the author’s life story, and I believe that how you feel about this says a lot about how you look back at your life in general (I also wholeheartedly agree that there should be a Jump To Recipe button at the top of the page because sometimes you really do just want the recipe).

I read cookbooks for fun, so my opinion on this may be a bit skewed, but I think that we can’t separate the food we eat from the places we eat it and the people who prepare it and the conversations that happen around that meal. I write about what I’m doing at the time I’m cooking something so that I can look back and remember that slice of my life; I forget a lot of things and it’s nice to have a reference point. This has been particularly true in the Covid era, which has warped everyone’s perception of time passing and robbed us of so many of the usual touchpoints for memory. 2020 was long and strange and terrible, and 2021 was too, and I don’t have high hopes for 2022 either – but at least it can be a good year for cooking.

Somehow we managed to go from a complete standstill to everyone being insanely busy once the school year started, so dinner has become mostly another task to be managed and fit in to a crowded schedule. I have mixed feelings about this. There’s a lot to be said for hopping back on the meal prep bandwagon (thank you, Cassie Joy Garcia!) especially now that I’m sending meals over to my newly-relocated mother-in-law. Much as I adore novelty and new , nobody is going to perish of boredom if we eat the same things sometimes, and it’s perfectly normal to want to get something on the table in under half an hour.

Imagine my delight in coming across a dinner that ticks every single one of my boxes: 

• It was ready in under half an hour, start to finish, using ingredients I have on hand
• Everyone liked it (or wisely kept their mouths shut if they didn’t)
• It’s a dish that was introduced to me BC (Before Children/Before Covid) by my friend Kristi, so there’s an element of nostalgia (“remember when we used to eat at restaurants?!”)
• It came from the infamous and ever-growing To Cook folder
• It’s fun to say

There are many, many versions of this recipe out there. This particular one came (as many of my favorites do) from Deb at Smitten Kitchen, who adapted it from a recipe she found via Tasting Table.

 

Okonomoyaki

½ small head of cabbage, shredded or very thinly sliced
4 carrots, peeled into ribbons
5 lacinato kale leaves, cut into thin ribbons
4 scallions, sliced very thinly on the diagonal
1 teaspoon kosher salt
½ cup flour (we’re using King Arthur All-Purpose Gluten-Free flour these days)
6 eggs, lightly beaten
Oil for frying
Okonomiyaki sauce
Kewpie mayonnaise

Toss the vegetables together in a large bowl. Toss the mixture with the flour until all the vegetables are coated. Stir in the eggs.

Heat a large skillet on medium-high heat and coat the bottom of the skillet with oil. If you’re feeling excited about your new stove, you can use the griddle that’s oh-so-conveniently located between the burners and feel very proud of yourself for picking out such a good one.

I use my hands for this so it’s not very precise, but take ¼ - 1/6 of the vegetable mixture and put it in the pan, then smoosh it down with your hand or a spatula until it’s about ½ inch thick. Cook until the edges begin to brown (3-5 minutes), then flip with a large spatula. Cook on the other side until that’s brown too.

There are lots of recipes for okonomiyaki sauce online; if you don’t have an Asian grocery near you, it’s definitely possible to make your own (Smitten Kitchen’s version includes a recipe for this, btw). I keep forgetting to add Kewpie mayonnaise to my shopping list so I’ve had to make my own. But this is enough of a favorite around here that it’s worth the trip to get the bottled sauces, which are then conveniently in the fridge when your idea of getting dinner on the table doesn’t include that much effort.

To serve, squeeze the sauce back and forth across the pancake, then top it with a similar drizzle of the mayo. I know – this seems totally gross, right? Trust me, it’s delicious. The pancakes without the sauces are kind of boring. Sprinkle with toasted sesame seeds, seaweed flakes, or the shaker of both that you found while you were buying the other sauces at the Asian grocery store.

Help! I can’t find Kewpie mayonnaise!

No worries. For each cup of Hellman’s mayo, add ½ teaspoon Dijon mustard, 1 ½ tablespoons of rice vinegar or apple cider vinegar, and ½ teaspoon sugar. Mix well and put into a squeeze bottle.