Divine Polenta

There is life after divorce. How do I know? Yesterday night I devoured the smoothest, slightly salty yet also creamy--and most comforting--bowl of polenta (with braised chicken and vegetables) you can imagine. At everything else yesterday, I failed miserably... but the polenta was perfect.

After expressing my frustrations with the kids for waking up early, after throwing Eden's pee-soaked sheets in the washer for the up-teenth time, after Eden jumped into the baby's crib, awaking a very sick and tired Liam, after missing a counseling appointment because I failed to locate a babysitter, and after rushing through a relatively important online meeting, I took a deep breath, went out to the garden with Sydney to pick fresh cherry tomatoes and zucchini, went back inside with a clear head, pulled out a heavy-bottomed pot from under the counter, and saddled up to my stove to make the best polenta of my life.

What's the secret? Use regular corn meal--not corn grits (no offense to Bob's Red Mill)--and chicken stock in the place of half the water, for extra richness. Stir in a couple tablespoons of butter and some parmesan cheese at the end for both creaminess and saltiness. Have a garden-fresh broth, with thinly sliced garlic and bursted tomatoes to pour over the top... and pray for a little divine intervention.

That's right. I titled this post "Divine Polenta" for a reason... not just for the divine intervention in its creation. Remember I said that bowl of polenta (complete with the broth, of course) tasted unbelievably smooth and comforting? It was--and here's the key: Despite overwhelmingly unwelcome discoveries in life--(that you've been lied to for years by the person who committed to share his life with you, that you've devoted seemingly endless time and effort in a fruitless cause of choosing to love someone who skips out on work breaks to "meet with colleagues" behind darkened glass, that you have to answer heart-wrenching questions posed by wide-eyed four-year-olds and two-year-olds)--despite all this--death, disease, and decay--life also holds comfort. The divine smooths out our path, even when we should be stumbling over mountains of rocky terrain.

This may sound completely bizarre, but God spoke to me as I devoured that polenta: "Yes," he whispered, "life continues, and perhaps even a better life." I gorged on the thickened cornmeal like I hoped I could now gorge on life; I savored it with relish. Does passion still exist after divorce? Certainly. The polenta taught me that as well.

By the way, the kids did think this was Good Eats (better than the veggies, anyway)! And yes, Liam is wearing a pink bib. It was the polenta that worked out, folks, not anything else. :)