I had polenta on the brain the other day. The image in my mind’s eye was bright and sunny, and so was my mood. That polenta should be my idea of comfort food is perhaps a bit odd. I never had it as a child, so it’s not about nostalgia. But polenta, when cooked properly, is truly heavenly.

I’m not even sure when I picked up the habit; I can only say that, having cooked hundreds of pots of polenta and eaten it all over Northern Italy, I’m a zealous fan. I’ll gladly make polenta today just to have leftovers.

Though you can cook polenta in a pressure cooker, microwave or other devices, I still prefer doing it the old-fashioned way, on the stovetop, stirring occasionally. That way I can nurse it along, adding liquid as necessary to keep it smooth.

Somewhere in my travels, I heard about a traditional, communal approach called polenta sul tavolo or polenta alla spianatora — essentially, hot polenta poured on a large, round board and brought to the table.