If I can turn back the clock and go back in time when I was a little girl 4 years old, in 1932, what was the thing I remember most? Some memories you never forget as long as you live.  I lived on a farm with my mother, father and 6 sisters, an uncle, his wife and 2 daughters, my grandmother and my grandfather.  I remember our home, 3 stories high, made out of rock and cobblestone with window shutters.  The First floor was a large kitchen and a long table with benches all around.  One bedroom was my grandparents, and another room we called La Cantina, because that is where our family kept all the food supply, like wine, salami, cheese, bread and homemade jarred goods. The floor was compact dirt; there was no brick, or wood flooring.  No electricity, heat, or running water. The bathroom was also outside.  The second floor was comprised of three bedrooms with an extra open loft space where most of us slept together dormitory style. One bedroom was for my parents, one for my Uncle and Aunt and one for the nursery. The rest of us squeezed in 5 or 6 to a bed, with mattresses made out of dried corncobs. We called the third floor Il Granaio (which means the grainery) because we kept all the dried food for storage there, grains, corn, wheat, rice, etc.  The barn was attached to the house and that was where we spent most of our time in the winter with the heat of the cows to keep us warm. My mother was a wonderful cook and she did all the cooking for the family. We had a stove, which was a lot like a square brick barbeque with an open fire pit and a grill on top that we fed with wood. I remember having a chimney with a long chain hanging down with a hook at the end where you place the pot and pan to cook over the open flame. Only being 4, I still remember sitting on a little wooden bench where my momma was cooking and smelling the aroma of that wonderful homemade food. I also remember a big black cast iron skillet where she made the polenta every night. And when it was ready she would turn it over with a SMACK! onto a round wooden board. Polenta was one of my very favorite meals. I had it in the morning soft like cream of wheat with a little sugar, or fried polenta crushed into cold creamy milk with a little sugar, there was also Polenta with beef stew and anything with gravy. But the way I loved it the most was the way my mom made Polenta with Chicken Cacciatore.  I loved it so much that my Uncle called me Polentina until the day he died.  And that is the truth!
    Because my father did not like work as a farmer he bought a house with more conveniences and moved us to the city when I was 10. Life was quite a change from the farm, I had a new bicycle, new shoes, new friends and my own bed! Life was good for a few years, until the war broke out, that’s when everything stopped. My town was the most bombed city in all of Italy. But that is another story for another day. The only thing that didn’t stop was my love for cooking with my mom.  I always wanted to learn. I remember coming home from school and the first thing I did was walk right in to the kitchen and look to see what my momma was cooking. You could smell the aroma a block away; she just had a special touch.   When I got married and came to America, my Momma gave me my most precious gift of all, a cookbook: Il Talismano Della Felicita, the Talisman of Happines.  My momma knew I didn’t need anything else.  I still make polenta quite often because my family loves it too. I hope you enjoy today’s blob and my rescued recipe. Try it; I know you will come to love it like I do.  Please tune in for more stories and Rescued recipes,
Love Momma