Polenta Pizza Crust

It's not possible. That's what I tell visitors here. It's just not possible to get bad pizza in New York, at least in my experience. Sister and I have our favorite place: Patsy's on 2nd Avenue. But you can walk into any Italian deli on the corner of East-where-the-heck-am-I and Get-me-out-of-here-before-something-really-bad-happens, and I swear you will get a tasty slice. Some may be a little greasier than you want, but the flavor and crust of every one of them will be super good. It just will.

But today I'm talking about homemade pizza. My own. I'm a leftover-eater, a behavior inherited from my mother. It's not that it bothers me to discard food (Lucy's the one who can't bear to throw it out, "But that would be wasting it!" Soooooo, it ends up in the fridge until I throw it out for her; what's wrong with this picture?). It's just that I love food so much, I want to eat every morsel of whatever it is. Pizza is a great "palate" for using leftovers. You can throw a few things together on a crust and end up with a piece of art that fully satisfies both your eyes and your (other kind of) palate.

Except for one thing. That crust thing I mentioned. Unless you happen to keep a ball of pizza dough in your fridge---which I have done at different times, mostly when I was extra fat, since my best shopping friend Trader Joe sells a great ball of whole wheat pizza dough for about a buck-fifty---you're kinda S.O.L. when the mood for pizza strikes or when just the right mix of leftovers present themselves. Being a WeWa member, I've been told all the low-cal, low-fat tricks for making a mini-pizza: use a split toasted pita; an English muffin; a multi-grain wrap. Yeah, yeah, I know. Some of them are ok, but not really. For one thing, I want a whole pizza, not some little fake mini thing. And I'm not willing to use the WeWa points for real dough. In fact, I am so stinkin' picky I want a real crust that costs me ZERO points. So what's a WeWa foodie to do?

Drumroll, please. Enter POLENTA, wonder food of the world! Seriously, this stuff is freakin' amazing. Just ask Leslie if you don't believe me----she's like some kind of creamy polenta pod-person. I've already mentioned on here that when I make creamy polenta, I now make extra and use it for a replacement fried cornbread fix. That experience got me thinking about the possibility of using polenta to make a super thin pizza crust. I DID IT! And IT'S DELICIOUS! I made last weekend's pot of creamy polenta a little thinner than usual (it would have thickened up more if I had continued to cook it a few more minutes). The part we ate as a creamy base for leftover tomato sauce mixed with haricot vert, pork cutlet (mine), fake chicken (Lucy's) and freshly grated parm was as delicious as always. The difference was that what I spread out in an olive-oiled bar pan was super, super thin. After it was covered in the fridge for a day, it was time for Dr. Frankenstein's polenta pizza crust experiment. I put the bar pan of super-thin polenta into a 400 degree oven and left it to crisp up. It also shrunk a good couple of inches away from the sides, and browned around the edges. Then I flipped it over to crisp on the other side while I got toppings ready for Southwest Pizza. My half, in order from the crust up: refried beans spread on just as if it was tomato sauce, salsa, shredded chicken breast (cooked), lightly sauteed red onion with yellow and red peppers, and a sprinkle of cilantro. Lucy's half: refried beans, salsa, freshly grated part skim mozzarella, same onion and pepper mixture, and cilantro. I popped it into the hot oven just until the cheese melted. On my slice (OK, on my multiple slices, cause we both ate the whole thing) I added a dollop of Greek yogurt, another spoonful of salsa, and more cilantro. We both deemed the Polenta Pizza Crust a rip roaring success.

Now, if you're a normal person (i.e., not a chubbette like me) you can just use a regular pizza crust for your nice Southwest Pizza and forget all this polenta nonsense. But if you like really thin crispy crust, as I do, or if you're a Simply Filling/Core WeWa'er who wants to avoid the use of flour and use zero points on her pizza, as I am, this is a solution. The Southwest Pizza variation lends itself to the polenta crust especially well, of course, but this technique is a keeper for us. We've already decided our next one will be a Greek Pizza: feta cheese, tomatoes, spinach, and other mediterranean goodness. My own New York pizza success, thank you very much.

Cornbread Mojo

When our little mama died last year, a bunch of our old Lake Creek/Willow/Granite, Oklahoma friends gathered to visit with us. It meant the world to Sister and me. (And, Sister, just forget what that ol' mean Opal said to you!!!!) Linda Dillahunty wrote a note in the book about coming home with us (meaning with Melissa) after church one Sunday. That was our biggest socialization time when we were growing up---someone coming home with you after church on Sunday morning, and then going back to church Sunday night from where they would go back home. Anyway, Linda said that our mama had cut up pieces of cornbread and fried them, and that it was the best thing she ever ate. She went home and asked her mother to do the same thing. Now, isn't that just a silly thing to write about in a funeral book? To the contrary, that is the BEST-EVER remembrance! What Linda said in that little note captures the essence of my childhood in so many ways. And, truly, Mother's fried cornbread was a delicacy that I enjoy to this day----but I thought everyone did. I am a cornbread nut (thanks a lot, mama) and am on the never-ending quest for the perfect cornbread. By the way, anything with sugar DOES NOT COUNT, thank you very much. If God had meant for cornbread to have sugar in it, He would have called it cake. Leslie and I both have Crescent Dragonwagon's cornbread cookbook, courtesy of a visit to the Clinton Presidential Library gift shop, and I love to read about cornbread almost as much as I like to eat it. But, alas, my foodie loves, healthier eating forays, and Weight Watchers adventures all evolve. Enter the Wonderful World of POLENTA. Ahhhh, this is a food that makes Leslie's mouth water. She went through a phase where she would text me almost daily what she was serving on her creamy polenta that night: swiss chard, spinach, dog-poo......doesn't matter, it all tastes good on polenta. Thanks to mama's fried cornbread, I now fix a double batch of creamy polenta (it's just coarsely ground corn meal, salt and boiling water, folks; whisk, whisk, whisk; cook it a tiny bit longer than you think you should) and spread half of it out flat in an olive oil-sprayed bar pan, let it cool on the counter, and then cover it with plastic and put in fridge. After it's set, or even after a day or two in the fridge, I cut it in wedges and lightly fry it in a little olive oil or spray in a skillet. Just until golden brown on both sides. It's got the crunchy nuttiness of Mama's fried cornbread on the outside, and its own creamy polenta-ness on the inside. H-E-A-V-E-N with a bowl of pinto beans. So, here's to ya, Mama!

Oh, and someday remind me to tell you about Grandma Lucy Murray's skillet hoecakes. Sadly, I never learned how to duplicate them, but I figure that can be a retirement project. I do know that Grandpa liked to have one crumbled up in a big tall glass of cold buttermilk, with lots of pepper sprinkled on top. I like that, too. Oooooh, another way to eat polenta!