True Grits

Sure I've heard of grits.

I just never actually seen a grit before.

~Joe Pesci in My Cousin Vinny, one of Sir's all-time favorite flicks

As the Diva and I enjoyed our boffo brunch on Sunday, the subject of food came up in conversation as it almost inevitably does. She wondered what we were doing a chez Fractured Amy for side dishes these days, and I was forced to confess that in the area of starches we are somewhat limited, relying mainly on potatoes and rice. Gluten-free pasta, of course, is nothing but heartbreak. Quinoa has been off the menu ever since I was alerted to the dire effects its international marketing is having on the good people of Bolivia. I am having trouble getting behind such earthy-crunchy grains as buckwheat and amaranth. The boys despise beans of all kinds and although Sir will eat a lentil if it's concealed in a spicy dahl, the Kid Squid wouldn't touch one with a pair of eighteen-inch grilling tongs. Chickpeas are acceptable to all, but consuming them in side-dish-sized quantities is something one only does at extreme peril to one's digestive well-being.

Recently, though, I have been turning to maize products with great success - most notably in my untangling of the samp mystery and the invention of my newest protein-rich dish, South African Style Hominy and Beans (which, sadly, the boys dislike intensely). Maize meal also appeared on my radar recently when I mistakenly thought Floyd used it as the centerpiece for this Top Chef Master-worthy dish of upma with mushrooms - and although it turned out his upma was made from semolina, it still got me to thinking.

I currently use organic yellow cornmeal in various delicious applications such as corn bread, hasty pudding and hoecakes, but I had to ask myself why I haven't yet tried that traditional all-American down-home side-dish of gluten-free champions, grits?

Determined to redress this deficit ASAP, I popped into the supermarket on my way home only to be immediately brought up short by the realization that grits, like so many other things in my life at present, are complicated.

I found two different varieties. The first, from Bob and His Red Mill, I located in the organic/health food/bleeding-heart liberal aisle. They were called Organic Corn Grits and through the clear bag I observed their rough texture (like coarse sand) and bright yellow hue. I noted from the label that the contents were low in fat, reasonably high in fiber, protein-bearing and packed with iron. I also saw that they require refrigeration after they've been opened: I discovered later that such ground corn retains its oily germ and starchy endosperm. While this wholesomeness is what accounts for the grits' awesome nutritional value, it also causes them to spoil quickly if not kept cool. No problem - there's plenty of room left in the chill chest ever since the great February Fridge Purge.

The second breed of grits I found in the breakfast cereal aisle. The tubular blue-striped packaging sported a rather smug-looking eighteenth-century religious non-conformist of the pacifistical persuasion, and the label declared the contents to be Old-Fashioned Smooth and Creamy Enriched White Hominy Grits. I found it interesting that old-fashioned Friends understood the importance of niacin, thiamin, riboflavin, and folic acid, and reasoned that they had to add these substances in order to gain any sort of nutritional benefit whatsoever from their degerminated product. When I got the grits home I discovered that these too had a rough texture but were snowy white in color, just like my nixtamilized hominy.

Trivia alert: did you know that if you eat hominy slaked with lime or lye you will never get pellagra? FYI!

Anyway. I decided to cook up the yellow variety for the evening meal, because I thought it would provide a pleasingly colorful counterbalance to the rather beige plate of grilled pork and cauliflower I had planned.

I consulted a number of culinary references and concluded that my grits should be cooked in liquid at a ratio of around 1:3. I brought three cups of salted water to the boil (I'm low on stock, at present, and will not be making more until the Fall), sprinkled in one cup of grits (stirring all the while), and let them bubble quietly for fifteen minutes, giving them the occasional scrape 'n stir with my best wooden spoon. When they were good and thick and soft and clapped the lid on the pan and let them sit for five more minutes. At the end of that time I removed the lid and peeked expectantly into my pan to see what my efforts had wrought.

What they had wrought was an extremely polenta-like substance. So polenta-like, in fact, that I was moved to add a blob of butter; some fresh grated parmesan cheese; a few grinds of black pepper; and some sage leaves from the garden. My Southern-Style Pork Loin with Cauliflower and Creamy Grits became Carne di Maiale al'Italiano con Cavolfiore e Polenta Cremosa - a fine dish to be sure, but not what I'd originally had in mind.

I thought it was awesome but the boys were adamant: no matter what the name, they hated the dish. Hated ... the ... dish. Neither of them seems able to embrace maize the way he should, I'm afraid: Sir blames his English upbringing ('It's not in my culture, you know!') and the Kid Squid - well, the Kid Squid has a thing about texture and that's all I feel able to say on the matter.

*sigh*

I guess it's back to potatoes and rice.

Coming soon: True Grits, Take Two. I brown bag white hominy grits to work for a fine microwaved lunch and eat them all by myself.