Update (1/22/11): This short rib polenta won Food52’s contest for Your Best Short Ribs, and will be included in their next cookbook, out later this year!

Maybe it’s the tomato tooth I was born with instead of a sweet tooth, maybe it’s the towering heels I rock when my old bones let me, or maybe it’s only that Marcello Mastroianni was perfection on two legs, but I’ve always wanted to be Italian, just a little bit.

Exhibit A: Photographic evidence of alleged perfection, minus corroborating proof of two legs.

It isn’t that I don’t love a good bowl of shrimp & grits or that I don’t get a nostalgic glow from a breakfast of couche-couche and cane syrup, but polenta has been my go-to corn base of late. And after a long work week, what could be a more welcome sight or more soul-satisfying over cheesy, buttery polenta than a ragu of braised short ribs, I ask you?

It’s a dish that’s nearly impossible to mess up, which I think we all can appreciate in the days leading up to Thanksgiving. With so much else on the mind, it’s nice to throw something into the oven for a few hours and get on with other things. Of course, the initial prep work takes some time — chopping the vegetables, trimming and searing the beef, getting all of the elements in balance before the extended stay in the oven — but your time and patience will be well-rewarded by the outcome.

If you can manage not to devour it right away, let the ribs sit overnight in the refrigerator. This serves two purposes: as we all know, this type of dish is always better on the second day, and you’ll be able to remove some of the ungodly amount of fat the ribs throw off so much easier than if you only skimmed the surface while it was still hot. Of course, chilling the ragu overnight doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do a little quality control while it’s still hot, just to put your mind at ease that you have, in fact, made something that will be worth the wait.

But woman cannot live by polenta and short ribs alone. As a nod to the tables of so many of my fellow North Jerseyans, I made a Sunday gravy recently. It’s not something I tackle more than once a year because of the sheer effort and number of calories involved, but man, this makes for a pleasant food coma. I make no claims to authenticity, but I’m not sure too many others can either; it’s one of those dishes that seems to have as many variations as people who make it. The recipes may disagree on specifics, but all are unified in the insistence on Meat And Lots Of It. Me? I only used a paltry four types — pepperoni (not too much of it), sweet Italian sausage, pork butt and beef & pork meatballs. I browned everything but the pepperoni, then simmered it all for hours in tomatoes swimming with garlic until we were going mad (in the best possible way) from the smell.

My gluten-free adaptation of this polenta cake didn’t quite pass muster, but with a little creme fraiche, it was still a nice way to end the meal. I’ll keep working on it and report back when I’ve found success.

recipe after the jump

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recipe after the jump

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Honestly, is there anything better than caramelized onions?

Debate amongst yourselves, but NJ, you can just stifle over there with your wails of, “Chocolate! WHY must you always gloss over chocolate?!” cuz I don’t want to hear it. Oh sure, bacon is a wondrous thing — a taste sensation I’m quite fond of, as you know — but it’s a star that can easily upstage other elements of a dish. But onions, well, onions are real background players — they aren’t glamorous or sexy. They’re rarely the object of a photographer’s love and don’t seem to star in food porn too often. They may be under-appreciated and content to play a supporting role, but with a little love and devotion they can go from bit player to the star of the show. In fact, I built my whole meal around caramelized onions yesterday. I could eat them like candy. Keep your Halloween treats — all I want are sweet, savory, amber-colored onions!

What better way to let these beauties shine than to serve them with plain, hearty fare like bangers and mash? And so I started the onion gravy, cooking it slowly to build flavor. While the thinly-sliced onions (sweet and Spanish) were sautéeing in butter and sweet almond oil, I peeled and cubed a celery root and an equal amount of potatoes and put them to boil.

When the onions had browned, I added about a tablespoon of flour and cooked it for about 30 seconds to get rid of the raw flour taste, then stirred in a splash of white wine. I let that cook down until most of the liquid was gone, then added some chopped thyme and beef broth, and simmered until the gravy was thick.

Once the celery root and potatoes were cooked through, I mashed them together with a little milk and just enough Dijon mustard to give them a kick, and because I couldn’t stand the thought of not having at least a little green on my plate, I added some braised kale with garlic. In keeping with the theme of subverting the dominant paradigm, the bangers were almost an afterthought — split, skinless chicken and apple sausage browned in a tiny bit of olive oil.

They just had to take a back seat this time, though. The caramelized onions would’ve stolen their thunder, no matter what.

And no, I didn’t take any pictures of the onions (ho-hum), but did root around in the archives for an even uglier duckling — an unwashed but much-loved celery root: