Before last Saturday, I had never taken a cooking class. I learned to cook from my mother, by reading a whole lot of cookbooks, and by actually cooking. It is a form of artistic expression to me, something that gives me intense pleasure. Thinking of an ingredient and how to use it in a tasty, novel, and hopefully healthful way, makes me happy.

But a friend of me asked me to join her in a class at Sur La Table, covering the food of Provence. I’m not a huge fan of fancy French food, but Provençal cooking is the rustic kind of real food I enjoy cooking and eating. I was a little tardy, thanks to a quick dash for an iced coffee on a hot night, where I got stuck behind two long orders, neither of whom tipped the barrista, may they rot in hell. But all I missed with Chef John Neumark’s self introduction. Which in a way was nice, because knowing he was a chef at the highly regarded Campagne restaurant or my all-time favorite Serafina might have made me assume he was a great chef rather than discovering it by watching him cook.

The menu was good. But nothing, upon reading it, struck me as something I needed to learn how to make — a roast chicken (got that down), braised fennel (don’t like fennel), polenta and mushrooms (don’t really care for polenta), and an apricot tart, but with figs and raspberries since apricot season is over. Yum, but I got tarts down, too. Still, I was game. I was interested in watching his knife skills — something in which I need schooling — and seeing how he made a complex meal come together from (mostly) scratch in two hours.

I will admit here to the masses something which those who know me probably know already: I always have a comment, something to observe or say, a joke to make. Choosing a spot to Chef’s left, where I could make sure I was my usual teacher’s pet self, I watched closely, but probably didn’t shut my mouth much. I chopped some mushrooms and some tomatoes, I diced a shallot and pulled leaves of sprigs of thyme, sliced some figs. It was fun. A couple hours later, we got to taste the result. I wasn’t expecting anything to be fabulous.

Then I tasted the Goat Cheese Polenta and Wild Mushrooms with Thyme. Holy moly! I wanted a pot of just the mushrooms, but they were so good with the polenta, too. And while I’m not a goat cheese fan, it worked very well in this dish and didn’t overwhelm the mushrooms, sherry and thyme.

Here’s the recipe, with a few asides on substitutes for vegans or vegetarians by me:

In a large pan (really large), saute two minced shallots in four tablespoons of either olive oil or a combination of butter and olive oil. Once they have softened, add two minced garlic cloves and saute for a minute. Then add in four ounces of each chanterelles, sliced crimini, and sliced shitake mushrooms. Let them cook for 7 or 8 minutes. Don’t stir too much or they will not brown. And you want them to brown. Add in a half teaspoon of fresh thyme leaves, stripped from the stem. An easy way to do this is to freeze the thyme for several minutes and then strip the leaves. The recipe calls for the addition of a half cup chicken stock, but we used a half cup of creme sherry. It may or may not flame (ours did), Let the result simmer for five minutes, and then season with salt and pepper to taste.

For the polenta, bring to a boil four cups of liquid (water, chicken or non-tomato heavy vegetable stock, milk or a creamy vegetarian milk substitute that doesn’t have a strong flavor on its own; oat or rice milk — unflavored, unsweetened — would work well; the milk or milk substitute make a creamier version). Add half a tablespoon salt and stir or whisk in a cup of polenta — for a creamy version, use a finer cornmeal. Most stores sell an instant polenta that works fine. Reduce the temperature to a simmer and stir for about eight minutes. Stir in two tablespoons of unsalted butter and four ounces of crumbled goat cheese. Other cheeses would work, too, but even if you don’t like goat cheese, try it. Really. If you are vegan I can’t think of a good substitute. If you know of one, let me know and I’ll edit this to reflect it.

Serve the polenta with the mushrooms over it on a platter for family style service, or divide into four portions.

Note: If you want a solid polenta, you can use three cups of liquid, pour the finished product on an oiled jelly roll pan and refrigerate, and then you can grill it or fry it in some butter or oil, and serve the mushrooms on top. Franky, I wouldn’t want to wait that long.

I wish I had taken a picture before we ate it, but it was gone too fast. Indeed, the only dish I got a picture of was the tart, which was the one dish I was sure I’d like and which wasn’t the best dish at all.

I’ll go to another class, and with an open mind, because the most valuable lesson I learned on Saturday evening was what my mom tried to teach me as a child and what I am trying to pass on to Darling Son: you don’t know you won’t like it until you taste it.