Los Gatos Weekly-Times

Grits get dolled up and go uptown

By Mary Ann Cook

Isn't it ironic that the humblest foods among us are now the trendsetters, trotted out in fine restaurants everywhere? These simple substances have become the most popular items on the menu.

I'm talking about polenta, for starters, which has undergone a sea change to become one of the haughtiest cousins of haute cuisine. And you know what it really is--nothing but grits, plain and simple. Grits, gruel, porridge, mush--homely cereals we've all been familiar with since childhood.

But would you order this dish under any of those names at your favorite dining spot? Of course not. You're not Oliver Twist or an 18th-century sailor, after all.

And this truth hasn't escaped the practiced eye and wily sleight of hand of the marketing crowd, either. Together with imaginative chefs they've cooked such grains in broth, gussied them up with cheese, mushrooms or other jazzy escorts and served them forth with a flourish.

But note: they didn't use any of those prosaic old names like hominy, farina, gruel or grits. No, they gave it the flair of a Spanish name, with the tantalizing clink of castanets in the background. Polenta. The seductive sound of that final 'a' is reminiscent of those sun shelters on Mexican beaches called palapas. With memories like that invoked, who can turn it down when it appears on a menu? I certainly can't. Nor can the rest of you trendsetters.

That explains polenta's appeal. Now let's take a look at another entry from childhood, mashed potatoes. Here the name remains, but add garlic to it and it becomes an entirely new dish. Or else, do like world-class chefs do, add whipping cream and send it through the sieve over and over again.

I was in Paris this spring with three others, including an unabashed gourmet. So--strictly to indulge her, you understand--one splurgy night we had dinner at the Astor Hotel, whose restaurant is under the auspices of one Joel Robuchon, purportedly the finest chef in France (and if in France, then it follows, the best in the world).

Mashed potatoes is his signature dish, and no wonder. It was like eating with the gods. We asked about the recipe. They don't give out such classified information willingly, or at all, but they will drop hints as delicately as they create quenelles or add dumplings to a broth, so that--in fits and starts--you have ingredients and processes to piece together by yourself in hopes that you will get at least some of it right.

The fact that the instructions are delivered in French doesn't help. But it became clear that night that besides potatoes, the main ingredient of this ambrosia is evidently butter, a flavor we may have forgotten in our quest to lower cholesterol.

Purportedly as much butter is used in the dish as potatoes, then it goes through the sieve at least seven times, and finally cream--another dirty word in California-- is added to the mix.

When written down, it sounds like you're eating nothing but butter and cream, a diet right out of a Wisconsin childhood. It couldn't be reproduced at home into a respectable California meal, obviously. No one here wants to sense their arteries snapping shut over one menu misstep. But just for one night, one exceptional night, it was worth it, like being on Cloud 9 or 10. I don't think we were told the right amounts, anyway. No dish could use that much butter, even in La Belle.

From mashed potatoes we'll make a smooth transition to potato soup. This dish was a mainstay of the Depression in our house and signaled the days before payday. But I was a kid and didn't realize that. I loved it and even requested it one day. I can still hear the awful sounds of my mother gagging. No matter how Dan Quayle spelled it, to her it spelled desperation.

What's in a name, asked Juliet of Romeo and ... fame. The answer is, plenty. We need go no further than the lowliest of pottages to prove that. Add a leek, eat it cold and call it vichyssoise, and the world hails potato soup as a delicacy.

Bouillabaisse is another example of the power of names. From time immemorial wives along fish-giving waters constructed stews to make good use of overloaded nets. Whatever gilled creatures were hapless enough to be the catch of the day went into the pot. It was an dish designed for frugality and practicality.

Have you priced a bouillabaisse lately? Even if made at home, it's the food equivalent of Bay Area housing. Those thrifty Mediterranean housewives had no idea what they were starting.

Mary Ann Cook is a Los Gatos Weekly-Times columnist. Artwork by Jerry McLaughlin.

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