TIDBIT 1.1

Cream of the Crop

Thank you for your subscription to Dishtillery! Our regular free newsletter will be out on July 30, and our paid subscription series begins on August 15. But in the meantime, we’d like to show our appreciation with these special tidbits.

DISH: July Is Corn, Grinning at the Sun

As gardening writer Jean Hersey wrote, “July can be hard and shiny, brassy and sharp. Some days are like copper pennies in the sunlight.” Perhaps that’s why July is prime corn season. All little golden rays themselves, ears of corn have an affinity for this month, and vice-versa.

Corn can take a lot of heat. First it grows in it, then it cooks in it. And maybe that’s why, whether scored at the farm stand or the grocery, young field corn is hard to ruin completely. Even when overcooked, it’s still a mouthful of summer.

In fact, it requires a good amount of heat to cook. But one of the most popular and easiest methods—boiling shucked cobs in salted water, or a combination of water, milk, and butter—often leads people to neglect the perfection of it.

Why? Simply because, as we do with eggs, even experienced cooks forget how long cobs should boil (5-10 minutes, depending on the size of the cob). Or, again in comparison with eggs, we turn off the heat but leave the corn in the water while everything else is being prepared. Or we simply get distracted, which is… what were we saying? Oh yes, perfectly normal. So while the corn still tastes sweet, the kernels become flat, chewy tiles rather than plump and bursting with juice.

An easier method to track, and one that adds a depth of flavor, is grilling your corn while you barbecue your proteins. Simply cut the silk off close to the tip with scissors, peel off the outer layers until only a thin amount of tender green remains, and then grill over high heat (cover closed) until the husk starts to blacken and split. For little-to-no char on the kernels themselves, it takes about 3-4 minutes on each side; for visible char marks on the kernels, grill about 5 minutes.

Grilling your corn allows you to keep an eye on everything you’re making at the same time. It requires you to pay attention (hopefully, though, not too much attention, because grilling also requires a cold drink in hand). And, as you can also visibly see the ears charring, you can tailor it to each diner’s preferences. If you’re worried about the timing of service, you can always remove some cobs and wrap them in foil to keep them warm while you continue grilling others who would like them toastier.

Some cooks recommend husking the corn first, slathering it in butter and spices, wrapping it in foil, and then placing it on the grill. We never say no to adding in this kind of rich flavor. We particularly enjoy elote, Mexican street corn, where the grilled cob is burnished with mayonnaise, Mexican crema, garlic, chili powder, queso cotija, and cilantro, and then spritzed with a light sunshower of citrus. You can easily doctor your cobs this way after grilling it, completely mess-free and in its own natural carry case, first.

You may never go back to boiling your cobs again. But if you must, try throwing in some cloves of garlic and wedges of lemon and lime for a hint of extra zest.

JK / BK

DISH: Poetry

Farm Share

“I remember breaking beans,”
says Theresa, come to collect
her portion of organically raised
agriculture—Chinese kale this week,
and Japanese shiitake mushrooms.

Ruth recalls peeling apples
as she tucks away her just-laid eggs;
Anne-Britte cracked nuts
in her native Sweden; Colleen
hulled strawberries and picked mint.

For myself it was corn, silky
strands from Jersey ears falling
like the collie’s hair on the driveway,
husks (and later, cobs) leftover
for the raccoons to discover in

the too-easily dumped garbage bins.
And I ask them, aren’t all
Saturday afternoons supposed to be
like this: friends and neighbors
retrieving mamey sapote and Bee Heaven

honey, the sun one chime away
from down, perched on the coral steps
of Mango House shelling last week’s
delivery of English peas with my daughter,
who unzips the pods and combs

the seeds as if they were pearls
pinging into the metal bowl
we share between us, the keeps
of curiosity at our fingertips,
casings of tradition at our feet.

You can find this and other food poems in Brie Season (Kelsay Books, 2014).
JK

Hang on to some leftover grilled corn, if you have it, for a recipe in the next newsletter, coming to your inbox on July 30.