In California corn is available year-round, albeit in different levels of quality, but growing up in the Midwest, the tall, green fields of summer corn had a kind of beauty that felt almost indecent in its abundance….like Mother Nature showing off. It was well thought of that the sooner you cooked the corn after harvesting, the better…in fact, the decline in quality was said to be dramatic if delayed. Once you get used to corn bought from a field stand from which it came…shucked and cooked the same day….there is a difference…but that option isn’t really readily available where most of us live, unless you’re passionate enough to grow your own….I guess my siblings and I were spoiled growing up without really knowing it.
Fresh corn carries a grassy sweetness that you can smell as you pull back the husks….I love it and every time I do this, it immediately brings me back to my childhood. Isn’t it amazing how smells and songs can whisp you back to earlier days and times? They are like time machines disguised as everyday life. One whiff, one chord, and suddenly you’re not in the room anymore—you’re back in your Mom’s kitchen, or the seat of your first car, or a summer night that felt like it would last forever. Scent goes straight to the limbic system—the part of the brain that handles memory and emotion—without the usual logical filters. That’s why the smell of sunscreen still drops me back onto the Fort Lauderdale beach as a very young teen when my parents packed me and 5 siblings into a station wagon and drove all the way from Michigan to spend two weeks with our grandparents. Also, just like the scent of a certain cologne can summon a person you haven’t seen in years. It’s primal, immediate, almost involuntary. You don’t remember the moment so much as you re-enter it. I’ll chat about how music does that for me in another post as it’s been a massive part of my life.
But back to the corn…wait…I just had a corn flashback that I need to share. At my first restaurant in CDM back in the early 80’s my cooking was ‘California-French’ which meant my techniques were French, but I took some liberty with ingredients and one of these as corn. I remember creating a warm poached lobster salad on summer. I pan poached lobster with roasted red peppers, a puree of fresh corn, sherry and butter and served on a bed of butter lettuce and frisee with diced avocado and garnished with potato chips…it was a delicious, rich and indulgent salad. One night, however, one of my servers came to me and said there was a well-dressed, somewhat elderly French woman who wanted to speak to me, and he indicated that she seemed to be quite agitated. So, I went to her table and introduced myself to her and said I understood she wished to speak to me. She said “Oui…I cannot believe you are serving zee corn….it is only for zee pigs!” I was taken back a bit by this but I knew where she was coming from. As iconic as corn was in America, back then, she was right…the French never dreamed of serving corn. How far they have come now serving corn coulis, custard and even ice cream.
Now back to where I was…shucking the ears uncovers the kernels that are plump, tight and glowing little beads of gold arranged in rows with the precision of a cathedral pews. And when you turn them into chowder, something alchemical happens. I’m not talking about the kind of thick, pasty New England Clam Chowder that people love. No, my version of corn chowder is more like the beautiful version served at The Ivy in Beverly Hills. It’s thin, un-thickened, and simple…goosed with some jalapenos but essentially allowing the goodness of the almost still raw corn to remain the star accented by a little fresh tarragon. But a bowl of it is $21 bucks…. gotta love LA. Want to add some Maine Lobster?….now you’re at $44, but I’m not complaining about the price of this version. Sometimes at home when I’m feeling all ‘Diamond Jim’ like (or Elon Musk for you kids) I will slow poach some lobster meat in butter and cream sherry and add it to the chowder….the result is decadent and divine.
I do add pecan wood bacon to my version just because the smoky counterpoint it adds to the sweetness of the corn really works for me and the sweetness of the tarragon but if you want to keep it vegetarian, 86 the bacon and it’s still damn good…just don’t use frozen corn or dried tarragon.
Here’s my version…it’s pictured with one of my favorite salads…butter lettuce, heirloom tomatoes, toasted almonds and a gorgonzola vinaigrette.
David & Tino
