Corn

Josh Raymer, the creative young chef behind Fredericksburg’s Navajo Grill, enjoys a little low-key partying at home on his days off. He and his wife, Julie, often invite friends in for a relaxed evening with simple food, a few good wines or a cooler full of beer, and some good conversation. Josh describes Hill Country parties as generally laid-back—dressing up means stepping into your “nicer” boots. But even the most casual affair on his stone patio includes music—Willy Nelson and the Texas Tornados are favorites. Decoration often consists of little more than bunches of herbs clipped from his carefully tended herb garden and plunked in jars. “We don’t do much.” Josh and Julie came to my garden party with their two-year-old son Hank and this equally irresistible salad. Don’t let the semi-boneless instructions frighten you. You can order neatly packaged, semi-boned quail from just about any commercial outlet, including Josh’s Bandera, Texas, supplier, Diamond H Ranch (www.texasgourmetquail.com). Semi-boned quail means the back, breast, and thigh bones have been removed, leaving the bird’s skin and its tiny leg bones intact. This allows the birds to be laid out flat for easy grilling.

This hearty salad is packed with so many vegetables that I often serve it as a main course. It’s a real lifesaver when guests announce, “Oh, by the way, did I mention I’m a vegetarian?” It welcomes just about any edible treasure from the farmers’ market or my garden, from sliced sugar snap peas to colorful nasturtium flowers, slender French green beans to crunchy cucumbers, plus all kinds of peppers. Think seasonally: try fall veggies like roasted acorn squash, steamed broccoli florets, or fall lettuces, or bias-cut and steamed spring asparagus. Any good artisan bread will do, but I prefer a dense white or whole-wheat sourdough; try day-old loaves from your bakery.

My mother loved fresh peas and she’d routinely prowl local farmers’ markets to find them. Purple hull peas were her favorite, but she also had a thing for cream peas, black-eyed peas, or just about any fresh legume that showed up at the farmstand. She’d make us kids shell the peas, and I always suspected it was to keep us out of her hair. I didn’t mind, though. For some reason I enjoyed shelling peas. Naturally, I liked eating them better than shelling them and this recipe, which makes enough to feed a crowd, showcases peas and my mother’s other summer favorite, fresh corn. Just like my mother, I find fresh peas at Texas farmers’ markets and sometimes even at my regular grocery store. Any fresh southern pea (see Tip) will work, but I especially favor cream peas. Do not use green peas, which will not hold up. I use canned black-eyed peas if I can’t get my hands on fresh and the salad still shines.

Like so many other American cooks, I learned to make risotto from Marcella Hazan—not directly, of course, although wouldn’t that be great? This is a quintessentially summertime recipe; make it when fresh corn, tomatoes, and basil are all converging on your local farmers’ market or farmstand. Risotto is one of those dishes that makes great leftovers—especially to form into balls, stuff with cheese, roll in bread crumbs, and fry to make arancini. So if you like the thought of that in your future, feel free to double or triple this recipe. Eat this with a vibrant green salad and some chewy bread for a filling supper.

I never liked raw spinach that much until I started eating it from my sister’s huge garden in southern Maine, where she and her husband grow almost everything they eat—a year-round endeavor, thanks to lots of canning, freezing, and the smart use of greenhouses and the like. She even brought me spinach seeds so I could start growing it in my own community garden. My garden is a tiny fraction of the size of hers, but the spinach comes out of it just as tender and sweet. This recipe barely wilts the spinach, so it still has that fresh flavor, but helps compensate for the sturdier texture of supermarket spinach, if that’s what you need to use, by softening it slightly. If you have tender garden-fresh spinach, you can feel free to let the topping cool before adding it to the spinach for a cold salad instead.

This is like a taco in soup form. It is not a traditional tortilla soup, but a black bean backdrop for a double or triple hit of corn (stock, tortillas, and fresh kernels), plus just-cooked shrimp. Like a taco, it’s hearty and satisfying without being fussy, and once you have the black bean soup base (page 52) ready and waiting, it’s a snap to put together.

It’s too bad so many cooks, when presented with a basket of beautifully fresh and local corn, strip off those husks and toss them. That’s a lot of flavor headed for the compost pile or, worse, the trash. I got the idea to use the husks to make corn broth from Vitaly Paley of Paley’s Place in Portland, Oregon, as mentioned in The Flavor Bible by Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg. I was already using the cobs, so I threw the husks in the pot along with the silks, too, to get as much corn flavor as possible. This broth is best made in the very height of local corn season and won’t be as vibrant with supermarket corn. Once you have the broth on hand, use it as the base for soups, especially as a stand-in for chicken broth in Corn Risotto with Roasted Cherry Tomatoes (page 135) and add it in increments to sauces for a boost of summer flavor.

For years, this was a recipe I didn’t let out of my kitchen—I don’t know why, but everybody has one or two recipes like that. I finally relented and gave a copy to Rick Bishop, Milk Bar’s favorite strawberry farmer, and he told me he hid it under his kitchen sink, where he knew it would be safe.

Cereal milk is made. Panna cotta, conquered. Easy, right? On to ice cream. Scoop the ice cream into your favorite pie crust (see page 59 for our Cereal Milk Ice Cream Pie), sandwich it between your favorite cookies (mine is the Cornflake Chocolate-Chip-Marshmallow Cookie, page 55), or scoop it into a bowl and decorate with your favorite breakfast cereal and jam or jelly.

In the restaurant, we serve our guests hot cheese biscuits and hoecake cornbread at lunchtime, but at dinner we swap out the hoecakes for these wonderful melt-in-your-mouth corn muffins.

Juicy blackberries garnish these moist, flavorful corn muffins, which have a soft and rich interior. Not overly sweet, these muffins go especially well with cheese omelets. Try substituting raspberries or blueberries for the blackberries.

This rustic soup is laden with beans, vegetables, and cheese. A chunky version of the typically smooth tortilla soup, it doesn’t require any traditional soup stock; the tomato juice and sweet corn cobs make a rich broth full of the fresh, south-of-the-border tastes of summertime. Read about incorporating heirloom beans into dishes like this one on the opposite page.

Galangal is a root that looks like ginger but has a sweet, perfumed taste. Find it fresh (the best choice), frozen, or powdered in Asian markets or gourmet food stores. The citrusy herb lemongrass can be grown from a store-bought stalk; place it in water on the windowsill until it sprouts before transferring it to a pot with soil. These rich fritters need a sweet, tangy sauce; if you don’t have time to make Tamarind Ketchup as the recipe calls for, use the simple Cilantro-Jalapeño Sauce (page 184), or whisk store-bought ketchup with honey, lime juice, and salt.

Dede always preferred to plant his corn patch in the fruitful black soil at the river’s edge. He taught me that when corn is ripe and ready to be picked, the silk at the top of the ear should be dark brown, almost black. It is not unusual to see people peeling back the husks in search of ears with perfect rows of kernels. Just take a peek to make sure the ear is full and free of worms, but keep the husk on to keep the corn moist and sweet. Do not bother with this recipe unless it is summer and you can make it with fresh corn and the best tomatoes, preferably heirloom. You will only be disappointed. Heirloom tomatoes, varieties passed down through generations by farmers and gardeners the world over, come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and tastes. If you cannot find heirlooms, this garnish would also be delicious with any ripe tomato from your garden or market.

My grandfather used lots and lots of black pepper, especially to season Meme’s vegetable soup. It tasted wonderful, so it wasn’t like he was trying to hide the taste. He just loved pepper. We always had vegetable soup in the winter, using the vegetables we had canned or frozen that summer. This recipe easily doubles or triples. I like to make a large batch and enjoy it a few days in a row. You can prepare this with the traditional ham bone or opt for a vegetarian version. Serve with piping hot biscuits.