To polenta with love

The photographs in this post almost never emerged from their dark cocoon in my Canon SLR.

Several weekends ago, as I finished capturing pictures of the guests at our Memorial weekend cookout, I heard a great

*snap*
*crinkle*
*snap*

when I rewound the film! My heart gave a spastic, sideways kick; film should never sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies! My mind composed two explanations for the sound: either the film had indeed ripped, or the film was never securely on the spool and had not been advancing for the entire roll. I suspected the first cause.

Carefully, as if my SLR would explode upon agitation, I tiptoed back in the house. With the aid of an improvised dark bag (i.e. a black T-shirt tied off with thick rubber bands) and a windowless closet, I hoped to salvage my film and return it to the canister. How could I lose a precious, irreplaceable photo like this?

Raymond and James, two handsome young men

Baby James and his parents, Ross and Amanda, were visiting from Chicago, and my husband didn't want to put him down! Also, I wanted to capture the orchid centerpiece Raymond bought me (before I killed it two weeks later...) After fumbling around with the film in a darkened closet, I realized the film was a) ripped and b) determined not to go back in its canister. Oh, Dragnet! I closed film back in the camera and knew the situation required professional hands.

Martin takes his glasses off and gets serious.
That's Ross' elbow on the right.

Thankfully, the folks at Douglas Photographic Imaging came to my aid. DPI is sandwiched just east of downtown Wichita, in a demure brick building. They develop photos, offer classes, rent their dark room, and majorly saved my bacon. The lady behind the counter seemed just as invested in saving my photos as I was, and she reassured me that "we rescue film from people's cameras all of the time!" And the photos took my breath away. I think I've found my new photo place.

But back to the party! Raymond wasn't the only one who wanted to hold James. He got passed around the table like potato salad at a picnic, winning the hearts and minds of all he met.

Ashley, James, and Erik. Ashley has the best hair.

Our perinially busy-yet-awesome friends Erik and Angie even made it to the affair. Eric and Raymond played silly songs for us later in the evening on guitar and mandolin. I remember the Gourds's cover of "Gin and Juice" was a big hit.

Yes, Angie is always that glamorous!

The night was originally to be a wine and cheese party, but it evolved into more of a smörgåsbord: hamburgers, hot dogs, sun tea, spearmint lemonade, chips, guacamole, brownies, wines, cheeses, olives of all kinds, and the night's winner, polenta fries. My sister, Kira, and her roomate, Sarah, loved them.

The splendiferous thing about polenta fries is that they're easy and almost completely foolproof. The dish only requires about 5-10 minutes of your attention, and the rest of the time, it's either cooling quietly in a pan or toasting in the oven. That means you can make these crispy & mealy fries when you're otherwise distracted, cleaning the house, or mowing the lawn before a summer party. Give me another helping of easy, please.

Easy-peasy polenta fries

• 1 cup medium-grind cornmeal
• 3 cups water
• 1 egg
• 2 tb. crushed dried basil and/or oregano
  
• 1 tsp. salt
  
• 1/2-3/4 cups Italian bread crumbs.
• 1/3 cup shredded Parmesan cheese (optional)
• olive oil spray
  

First, grease the bottom of a large casserole dish or cake pan. Set the pan aside.

In a medium saucepan, bring the water to a boil. Before you add cornmeal, crack the egg into a small dish, stir it slightly, and set the dish next to the saucepan. After the polenta begins cooking, you'll want eveything you need at your side.

Stir in the cornmeal slowly and constantly with a wooden spoon. Keep stirring until the mixture begins to boil again, then lower the heat to a soft simmer. Take out a 1/3 cup of this mixture and, using a fork, whip it in with the egg. Return the eggy polenta to your larger saucepan and stir. You'll have to stir briskly to avoid ribbons of cooked egg; you want the egg for its binding power, not its looks.

Let the polenta simmer for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until it has a thick and smooth texture. Remove the pan from heat and stir in the salt and spices (rosemary and thyme are a nice substitute for oregano and basil.)

Spread the polenta evenly in your baking dish with a spatula, as you would with brownies. Let the polenta cool on a countertop while you clear away the cooking dishes. Cover the polenta and let it cool for at least an hour in the fridge, until it's firm.

Next comes the fun! Mix the Italian bread crumbs and Parmesan cheese in a small bowl, then, using a sharp knife, cut "fries" from the block of polenta. You can make them as fat or thin as you like, cutting funky shapes or traditional rectangles. Roll each fry in the bread crumbs, then transfer it to a cookie sheet. Cram those fries on that sheet, spray them liberally with olive oil, and toast the fries at 375 degrees in an oven until they're "done," about 30-45 minutes, depending on the crispiness you like.

Kira, Sheree, and Sarah: lovely and always full of sass.

Just et up with it

What could be more simple and lovely after a long, weary day than beans and tomatoes? Nothing, that's what.

Lately, about everyone I know--including me, really --has been hulking around in a lost, ho-hum kind of way. The first heat waves of summer are upon us, construction at Kellogg and I-135 is a daily drudgery, and the mosquitoes have awakened from their watery graves.

Another reason we're all weary because there's trouble, with a capital T, right here in River City. I've heard that Wichita is making headlines as far as Italy right now. Most of the people I know here are, to use a colloquial term, "just et up" over the whole thing. Who wouldn't be?

Since I'm kind of a journalist, I've been pretty occupied with the story, and in need of soothing. After unwinding in the garden tonight, planting more chard, basil, and lettuce, this is the kind of dinner I needed. Tasty, fragrant, and fill-the-nooks-of-your-belly satisfying.

Beans and 'maters.* Mmm.

beans and 'maters with a toasted pita

Beans and 'maters
serves 3

• 1 1/2 cups dried kidney, Anasazi, or pinto beans, about 3 handfulls
• 1/2 can or 1 cup canned stewed tomatoes (I like 'em seasoned with onions, garlic, and green pepper)
• 1/8 cup Sriracha or hot chili paste
• 1/4 cup ketchup or tomato paste
• 1/2 tsp. dried oregano
• 1/2 tsp. garlic powder

Soak your beans in cold water overnight (or at least 8 hours), covered, in a medium-sized saucepan. Drain the soaking water, then re-fill the pan with 6-8 cups of cold water. Bring the beans and a pinch of salt to a strong boil and then reduce the heat to a simmer. Cover the beans and let them cook until almost tender, about 40 minutes.

When the beans are about ready, drain some cooking water from the pan, leaving about 1 1/2 cups of liquid. Add the stewed tomatoes, with juice, chili sauce, ketchup/tomato paste, oregano, and garlic powder. Let the mixture get up to a simmer, and let everything cook until the sauce has slightly thickened and the beans are tender.

I enjoyed my beans and 'maters with a toasted pita, which I topped with mashed avocado. (That didn't photograph well at all.) What is an avocado, after all, but green butter?

The beans and 'maters taste great hot or cooled to room temperature, and I bet they'd taste divine spooned on top of a slice of French bread, like Jules prefers.

*"'maters" is a slang for tomatoes. You know, like "tuh-maters."