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Food and drink: Getting an earful

Fresh corn is the soul of summer

What's your favourite summer food? A big juicy slice of watermelon? Or how about a sweet and tender cob of corn cooked the day it was picked?

Corn gets a bad rap these days both health-wise (all those diabetes- and obesity-inducing corn-based sweeteners in everything from chicken to bread) and environment-wise. (It takes 5-12 years for soil to naturally return to its former nutrient levels once corn is grown on it, plus industrially grown corn sucks up huge amounts of petro-based fertilizers and water - more than 500 litres for every litre of corn harvested and stripped from the cobs.)

Still, you can't go wrong in the heat of summer with a cob or seven grown locally, so indulge.

Corn: our mother, our life, is how Margaret Visser describes it in her 1986 classic, Much Depends On Dinner . More is know about corn, its demands and its enemies, how it propagates itself and how it grows, than about any other plant on earth, she writes.

Corn is known to have originated in Central America, most likely in what is now Mexico. Aboriginal peoples from Cuba to New Mexico to Peru; the Inca, the Taino, the Aztecs venerated it, depended on it (our mother, our life). A kernel of corn symbolized what Christians symbolize with the holy cross - in the seed of life is death, writes Betty Fussel in her 1992 award-winning book, The Story of Corn .

While corn stems from a type of grass, the mystery still remains as to how people actually developed it - nothing like it exists in nature, in more ways than one.

Besides the curiosity of its mysterious transition from grass to plant with edible cobs, corn is also a rarity in its conversion of sugars to starch once it's picked - most plants work the other way, converting starches to sugars, ergo peaches and apricots sitting to ripen on your counter.

So what might seem like neurotic behaviour on the part of corn aficionados - driving hundreds of miles each way on prairie roads to fetch fresh corn from southern Alberta and bring it home to cook the same day; putting the pot of water on the stove to boil before you leave to buy the corn at your local farm gate in Lillooet or Pemberton or the Fraser Valley so it will be ready for those fresh and juicy cobs the instant you get in the door - is simply smart planning.

As for the cooking of freshly picked, tender summer corn, many ascribe to the two-minute rule, boiling it no more than that. But my husband and I prefer it at three minutes, which might extend closer to four by the time we actually get it out of the pot and onto our plates to be bathed in sweet butter and salt.

Whatever you do, don't boil it forever like they do at those corn stands at summer fairgrounds, where the hand-painted signs of bright yellow cobs as big as a man get you so hungry for some you break down and buy it, knowing full well you'll invariably be disappointed with a cob of starchy, boiled-to-mush corn as old and yellow and indifferent as a tobacco-sucking miner's teeth.

Then there are those who ascribe to the rule that a fresh and tender cob of corn should never touch water, especially during bar-b season.

The handy-dandy handbook for our barbecue, I mean gas cooking appliance, from Ducane in South Carolina has three different recipes for cooking corn on the cob in its husk, something that remains a mystery - as mysterious as corn itself - to many fellow Canadians.

Their recipe for eight cobs of corn with Tabasco butter is delicious: pull back the corn husks, being careful not to remove them, and take out the silk (remember while you do this that there's one silken strand for every kernel of corn).

Return the husks to their original position and close them with cotton string or a wire twist. Soak the cobs in cold water for about 15 minutes. While the corn is soaking, mix one stick of softened butter with 2 tsp. of Tabasco sauce, 1/8 tsp. salt, and 1/2 tsp. lemon juice.

After the corn has soaked, place it on the grill on medium heat and close the hood. Turn the corn often, grilling until it's browned and tender, about 35 to 40 minutes. Once it's done, pull back the husks and spread each ear with about 1 tbsp. of the Tabasco butter. Replace the husks and let the corn rest for about 5 minutes before serving it to lip-smacking appreciation.

If you don't want to go to so much work, use our lazy-man method. We simply throw the cobs on a medium-heat grill, husks, silk and all, for about 40 minutes in total, turning the corn at least four times.

My dear husband, who acts like he has hands made out of asbestos, strips off the charred husks and silk right before serving, often yelping loudly to the amusement of our bar-b guests. Simple and delicious, especially when the kernels have caramelized to brown.

If you don't like your corn straight up, here's an easy peezy recipe from my mom with all the taste and fun of corn fritters minus most of the oily calories. They turn out like little fluffy corn pancakes, delicious hot or cold. Take some on a hike or picnic.

 

Mom's corn "fritters"

1 tin niblet corn, drained or scrape the kernels from 12 ears of corn

2 eggs

1-2 tbsp. flour

1/4-1/2 tsp. salt

1 tbsp. butter (or less)

1 tbsp. oil (or less)

Separate the eggs and beat the whites until they're stiff. Mix the yolks into the corn, flour and salt. Add just enough flour so you have a runny batter. Gently fold the beaten egg whites into the corn mixture. Heat the butter and oil on medium in a skillet and drop small spoonfuls of the mixture into the pan so they don't touch and fry like little pancakes about 2 inches in diameter. Serve plain or, in a southern US tradition, with corn syrup, naturally, with a dash of molasses.

 

Glenda Bartosh is an award-winning freelance writer who wonders whatever happened to the corny corn dog?