Leftover cooked polenta — into the breakfast pan

After supper the tin of polenta has already cooled — even, golden. The hand pulls the lid “leave it till lunch”. By midday the middle is wetter, the edge drier, and they heat it again with a spoon like porridge. I cut slices in the evening, into the cold — in the morning onto a dry pan until a crust, an egg beside.

Leftover cooked polenta — into the breakfast pan. Yesterday’s roast potatoes in the pan is another hob; mash into cakes is another tip; barley into a lunch box another story. Here it is the corn round after the night: a slice, heat, a crackle of oil — not a grain salad and not a second reheating of porridge.

One morning is enough, two at most. A sour smell or a slimy film — bin. I don’t crowd the slices: otherwise they steam. I turn them when the underside takes colour. Raw meat never shares that shelf.

I don’t need polenta that cools as a grey spoonful until Wednesday. I need a slice with a crust from which the kitchen still smells of corn with tea. In your kitchen is yesterday’s polenta fried for breakfast — or stirred again as porridge in the pot?