Blanch a batch of hoja santa (Piper auritum) leaves, and you’ll know where they picked up their English nickname—root beer leaves. My kitchen filled with the scent of A&W as I plunged the greens into a boiling pot of water. Used in Mexico, and especially in Veracruz, hoja santa—translation: sacred leaf—is often wrapped around fish and tamales to impart its herbal, anise flavor. It’s also a key ingredient in mole verde.

I chose the tamale route for my CSA-inspired hoja santa experiment and used a Food & Wine romaine-wrapped tamale as my guide. The Food  & Wine version, however, omitted any sort of cornmeal, which I couldn’t stand for. Without masa harina in the cupboard, I cooked a quick, thick batch of polenta, and spooned the pre-cooked cornmeal into the hoja santa leaves, along with queso blanco, onions and roasted poblanos. Post-blanching, the leaves are fairly delicate so after folding them over the filling, I wrapped the packages in aluminum foil before dropping them onto a hot grill pan.

After eight short minutes, the foil packets yielded steaming tamales with oozing cheese and soft polenta surrounded by veggies. The preparation is far from authentic, but it takes considerably less time (you’ll easily saves hours) than traditionally steamed tamales. You can play with the filling, too. Mushrooms would be a nice addition, as would a touch of meat.

I served the tamales with refried beans, chopped tomatoes and sour cream. And though some recipes say to toss the leaves (they may or may not be harmful to health in large quantities), we ate everything but the aluminum foil.

Quick Hoja Santa Tamales
1 1/2 cups water
6 tablespoons corn meal
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 onion, diced
3 poblano peppers, roasted, skins removed, and diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons chopped fresh oregano
8 hoja santa leaves
12 ounces queso blanco, crumbled
Salt and pepper

Instructions
In a small sauce pan, whisk cornmeal into 1/2 cup water. When incorporated, add remaining water and stir to remove any lumps. Place pan onto the stove, and cook on medium-low heat until thick, 5 to 8 minutes. Stir in salt and pepper to taste. Remove from heat.

Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add onion, poblano, and garlic, and cook for 8 to 10 minutes, until soft. Stir in salt and pepper to taste, along with oregano, and remove from heat.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salty water to a boil. Blanch hoja santa leaves in batches for 8 seconds. Unfurl the leaves and drain on paper towels.

On a clean work surface, take one hoja santa leaf, and depending on the size, place 2 tablespoons polenta, 1 heaping tablespoon onion-poblano mixture, and 1 1/2 tablespoons cheese in the center of the leaf. Fold the leaf over the filling, and wrap the package in aluminum foil. Repeat with remaining leaves.

Heat a grill pan on medium heat. Place the foil packages on the pan, and cook for four minutes on each side. Remove foil, and serve tamales.

Serves 4 (light main courses)

Beans and polenta. The meal of the Great Recession. Belly filler of the Occasional Omnivore.

We’ve eaten all kinds of bean/vegetable/polenta combinations lately, and we love them all. Last night, I sauteed a stalk of green garlic and red onion, then threw in smoked paprika, cooked cannellini beans (about 4 cups) in some of their cooking liquid, five big handfuls of the CSA’s mixed greens, sun-dried tomatoes, and salt and pepper to taste. I covered the pot for five minutes to let the greens wilt, and transfered the beans to beds of Parmesan polenta. You can find the original bean recipe at epicurious.com, but I recommend rummaging through your pantry to inspire your own budget-friendly adaptation.

This is one of the most satisfying meals I’ve made in months, and it’s vegetarian eating at its best: creamy polenta flavored with pumpkin, butter and Parmesan topped with herby white beans. I’ve featured  polenta recipes on Occasional Omnivore before, but the toppings, rather than humble corn meal, have been the star. In this dish, polenta carries equal weight.

Since I made this over Labor Day weekend, I didn’t take any shortcuts. I made a giant batch of great northern beans from scratch, reserving leftover beans for future meals. But you could use canned beans to save time. I also chopped part of a calabaza squash (a pumpkin-like squash frequently used in Cuban cuisine) for the polenta, but you could open a can of pumpkin puree instead. (However, I wouldn’t skimp on the side dish brussels sprouts—sprouts, olive oil, S&P, coarse-grain mustard and a pinch of sugar @ 450° for 30ish minutes—which one of our dinner guests ate like candy.)

This recipe really could work either as a weeknight or full-production weekend meal, it’s your choice—and chance for vegetarian greatness. 

White Beans with Rosemary and Sage
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 small onion, diced
8 fresh sage leaves, thinly sliced
2 (heaping) teaspoons fresh rosemary, finely chopped
6 cups cooked white beans (navy, great northern, etc.), drained from cooking liquid
Salt and pepper

Instructions
Heat olive oil and butter in a large frying pan. Add onion, and cook until it just begins to turn golden, about 10 minutes. Sprinkle in sage and rosemary, and cook for 1 minute. Pour in beans, and cook at least 5 minutes—the beans should absorb some of the the herby flavor. Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper. 

Serves 6 to as polenta accompaniment 

Pumpkin Polenta
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cups (or more) diced pumpkin or winter squash
1 clove garlic, minced
3 cups vegetable or chicken broth
2 cups milk
3 tablespoons butter
1 1/4 cups corn meal
Kosher salt and pepper
1 cup grated Parmesan

Instructions
Heat olive oil in a large saucepan. Add pumpkin and sautee for 5 minutes. Stir in garlic, and cook 3 minutes more. Add a 1/4 cup of  water to the pan, cover, and cook pumpkin until soft—5 to 8 minutes more. 

Pour the broth in with the pumpkin, and bring to a simmer. With an immersion blender, roughly blend the pumpkin, leaving it as chunky as you’d. Pour the milk into the pot, and bring to a boil.

Plunk in the butter, and whisk polenta into the pumpkin broth, breaking up any clumps. Go ahead and season liberally with salt (about 2 teaspoons) and pepper. 

Cook the polenta for 5 to 8 minutes, stirring frequently. (It will thicken quickly.) Stir in 3/4 cup Parmesan, and make final adjustments with salt and pepper. 

Serve topped with white beans and remaining Parmesan cheese. 

Serves 6

As a lover of grits, polenta has an open invitation to my dinner plate. Twice in the last few months, I’ve prepared a creamy batch (cornmeal, milk, water, butter, Parm) and topped it with roasted or sauteed veggies. I give the vegetables extra life with pesto—any type will do—or a simple sauce.

Last night I tossed 2 1/2 cups of sauteed vegetables (red onion, mushrooms, zucchini, eggplant) with a few tablespoons of fresh sliced basil and 1 cup leftover All-season Tomato Soup that I froze a few weeks ago. (Your favorite pasta sauce would work just as well.)

Satisfying, healthy, quick. I couldn’t ask for more (except seconds) of a weeknight dinner.

This served as my send-off meal for William, who is spending his summer in New York for a law internship—insert pitiful Caroline face here.

With asparagus in season and a jar of truffles begging to be opened, I assembled this simple yet luxurious vegetarian dinner. 

First, I put on a pot of creamy polenta, which is nothing but 1 cup water and 1 cup milk (brought to a boil) with 1/2 cup corn meal, a few tablespoons butter, 1/2 cup grated Parmesan, and salt and pepper to taste. Be sure to stir the polenta frequently to keep  it from sticking to the bottom of the pan. 

Next, I blanched asparagus spears and shocked them with ice water to stop the cooking.

I melted a few tablespoons of butter in a small saute pan and added two thinly sliced truffles and a pinch of salt. I kept the truffle butter on low heat and re-warmed the asparagus in the fungusy goodness.

Meanwhile, I poached three eggs in a large pot of salted water with a few tablespoons of vinegar added in. One egg turned out beautifully, the other two a bit deformed. I’ll have to work on my technique.

Two nights later William and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary  with a five-course dinner at Chanterelle in New York, where we enjoyed a similar (but superior) dish. Chanterelle’s rendition consisted of grilled asparagus atop a truffle vinaigrette with a poached egg and shaved Parmesan. It was paired with a spright, minerally Chablis.

The flavors were all there. And they reminded of us of our Provence honeymoon with its asparagus-spiked dinners and picnics. One year behind us and one more season of asparagus love.