The sky did not clear until almost ten. Seven o’clock came in gray and stayed that way, the kind of gray that belongs to November, not the second week of August. Fifty-eight degrees at the coolest part of it, the lowest number in weeks.
Three days before, the number by early afternoon had gone past a hundred. This morning matched none of that.
A cold, gray morning earns a hot pot on the stove regardless of what the rest of the day has planned. Cornmeal takes the better part of an hour and does not care to be started at ten with the kitchen already at ninety-five. This one morning had the room for it.
Serves 2, generously
1 cup coarse cornmeal, for polenta 4 cups water 1 1/2 teaspoons salt 3 tablespoons rendered fat black pepper a small handful thyme leaves
Water and salt come to a boil in a heavy pot. The cornmeal goes in slowly, in a thin stream, so it doesn’t clump.
Heat drops to the barest simmer. Mostly covered, left alone for thirty-five to forty-five minutes, with a pass through the bottom every so often so nothing catches there.
It is done when it has lost its grit and pulls away from the side of the pot in a slow fold instead of running back flat. Off the heat, the rendered fat goes in and melts through on its own, helped along by the last of the pot’s warmth.
Salt and pepper to taste. Thyme leaves scattered over the top, whole, right before it goes anywhere near a mouth.
Eaten standing at the stove, straight from the pot, before the morning went back to being August.