From the L.A. Times
In Italy's Piedmont region, where polenta may be better loved than
anywhere else on Earth, the cornmeal mush is a food of the fall. When
the air turns crisp with the first frost and people await the arrival
of snow, housewives labor over their cooking pots, stirring, stirring
as coarse meal slurried in water gradually thickens and becomes sticky
and delicious. To serve, it's poured out onto a wooden board in a rich
golden puddle like a harvest moon.
Cesare Pavese wrote about
it in "The Moon and the Bonfires," a nostalgic novel about a
Piedmontese expatriate's return home: "These are the best days of the
year. Picking grapes, stripping vines, squeezing the fruit, are no kind
of work; the heat has gone and it's not cold yet; under a few light
clouds you eat rabbit with your polenta and go after mushrooms."
We
do things differently in Southern California. In the first place, fall
can be even hotter than summer. Here polenta belongs to these damp
chilly days of winter.
Recently I had a tryst with an old flame. No, ‘old flame’ is not quite right. You see, I’ve mindlessly used him many times over the years--even recently--meeting him most often in dark movie houses. On rare, more daring occasions we met in my bedroom, on nights when I admit I much more anticipated my latest Netflix delivery or guilty-pleasure TV show. He was always a second thought; an accompaniment; a reliable, cheap snack I held back from enjoying fully, lest I spoil the more respectable dinner waiting for me at home.
I am one of those people who enjoys a mid-afternoon sweet snack with coffee. The cravings for something sugary seem to hit about the three o'clock hour. I try so hard to be good but I've stopped fighting it. I figure the penalty is about 100 lunges or something like that. I'm over it. I swear I only take a few bites. I indulge in my sweet treat with French pressed black coffee I make at home. It all keeps me going until at least happy hour. 
Being Mexican-American and growing up in Texas you could count on rice and beans with almost every meal. I make light of my upbringing but it’s far from satirical – there were literally rice and beans with every meal. This worked great if enchiladas were on the menu, maybe not so swell when we ventured into other cuisines. Hamburgers and Rice and Beans didn’t make me very happy, neither did Salmon Patties and Rice and Beans, Spaghetti with Rice and Beans or Pot Roast with Rice And Beans.
Corn muffins are so versatile, but many can turn out dry and tasteless. The sour cream in this recipe keeps them moist and tender every time.