Dad said he was hankering for an old-fashioned, fried cornmeal mush breakfast. You can buy plain 'ole corn meal in Las Vegas, but I brought a 2-pound box in my suitcase anyway, along with some hardcover books. I just skimmed under Alaska's 40-pound limit, but the heavy suitcase prompted a smart remark from the Uber driver: "Have you got a BODY in there?"
"Ha, ha," said I. "Just incapable of packing light."
This breakfast is plain, simple and cheap. We had it all the time as kids. The cornmeal cooks up into a hot, sticky glop, then you can eat it like bland, starchy porridge with milk and sugar. But better yet, pour the mush into a loaf pan to set over night. In the morning, sliced and fried (preferably in a touch of bacon fat) and served with butter and syrup.
I was telling Dad this morning that "mush" was also good served "savory" for dinner, like with spicy red sauce and Parmesan cheese. He seemed a bit skeptical-- that combination seems pretty strange to a Pennsylvania Dutchman.
We’re having a nice visit, and just got back from a early morning food trip to Trader Joe's. My sister Marji gets home tomorrow, and I'm looking forward to the three of us spending time together before I head back on Wednesday.
The weather is beautiful, everything standing out in sharp relief against a piercing blue sky. It is the perfect time of year here, requiring neither air-conditioning or furnace. It was pouring when I left Seattle, and I hear it hasn't stopped raining all weekend.
You say polenta, I say mush...
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