The Maxims of Maize

You can always spot a novice at a corn feast. He brushes his butter in a delicate light film on the corn before he begins nibbling. A real corn man -- a veteran -- jabs and thrusts his butter, forcing it between the kernels in great heaps and gobs. Instantly, he sprays the buttered strip with salt, and then, bearing down with his lips and sinking his teeth into the extreme left hand side of the cob, he moves due east, oblivious to all but the crunching of his own happy jaws.

Eating corn-on-the-cob isn't pretty. It's pure pagan pleasure, served straight. In fact, all attempts to pretty it up invariably fail. Those small gadgets known as corn spears, for holding the cob gracefully without using the bare hands, are seldom taken seriously these days. Similarly, the practice in some formal dining rooms of serving an ear of corn wrapped in a starched white linen napkin is always regarded by corn lovers with mild loathing. Perhaps the thing which most quickly throws a corn man (continued on page 32)Maxims of Maize(continued from page 29) into ill temper is the menu item in restaurants which indicates the price of corn per portion. Now, there happens to be no such thing as a portion of corn. You eat it by the mountain. Often you make an entire meal of it. You gnaw away happily, without counting, until there's no more left.

The scientific word for roasting ears, saccharata, denotes the sweetness which is the very elixir of the corn kernel. It's an evanescent, soft kind of sweetness -- which may be easily lost. Normally, corn is filled with its greatest sugar content when it's on the stalk. After it's shucked, the sugar begins turning into starch. In one day's time, during hot weather, as much as three-fourths of the sugar may be converted into starch. This is the reason why corn connoisseurs never cease to warn that the only respectable corn is that which is rushed directly from the field to the fire. The logical answer, of course, is simply to move your kitchen stove to the corn patch and begin operations, a suggestion not likely to carry much weight with city gourmands.

There's a way, however, of slowing down the galloping sugar-to-starch race. Simply keep your corn cold from the moment it's shucked, if possible, until cooking time, and the rate of conversion will be slowed up immensely. If you see a big heap of corn piled layer upon layer on a vegetable stall under the hot sun, the chances are that oxidation has done its dirty work, and that even though the corn is fresh, its flavor is not. To aid you in this respect, some supermarkets now buy fresh corn picked during the night under floodlights when heat won't damage it. The corn is then quickly hauled in refrigerated trucks into city markets in time for the store's opening.

Ten years ago, any person who ate offseason corn shipped north from southern states was rightly marked as unhip. This past winter, however, Florida growers, cultivating new pale yellow hybrid corns especially adapted for the South and employing strict methods of temperature control, were able to ship corn which arrived two or three days later in the New York market with an incredibly small loss in sweetness and tenderness.

In Nicaragua, natives eat a variety of immature corn so tender that cob and all are chopped and thrown into the cooking pot. Actually the best tasting corn-on-the-cob should be neither too young not too old. Immature corn showing baby teeth all over will lack flavor and texture. Corn that's too ripe, on the other hand, with dull-looking grains that may be slightly shriveled or dented, should be avoided. There may be a few small kernels at the narrow end of the cob, but the remainder should be deep and plump with no space between the rows. Captain John Smith, after his trial at the hands of Powhatan, was taught by the Indians how to test corn, and the same method is still quite accurate. Merely pull back the husk and press a kernel or two with a finger nail. If the grains burst easily and squirt milk, they're fine. If the kernels are rubbery, slow to break and barely oozing liquid, the corn is tough and tasteless.

A fellow who wants to be dry behind his corn ears should know just a few more facts about selecting corn. The husks of fresh corn should be deep moist green and should hug the cob like a skintight dress. There should be a fresh, grassy smell to the husks. The silk protruding from the husk should be dark brown, rather dry and crinkly. Don't ever buy corn that's already husked and covered with gleaming cellophane. The husk guards the corn's freshness and shouldn't be removed until cooking time.

M.c.s at outdoor barbecues these days soon learn that charcoal broiled corn-on-the-cob has become one of the brightest spots on the al fresco circuit. The procedure is simple. Pull down the edge of the husk and remove the silk. Tear as much silk off by hand as possible. Remove the balance with a small scrub brush or vegetable brush. Then put the husk back in place and put the ears on the grill. If the fire is very fierce and you want to retard the first brush of heat, you can dip the corn in cold water for a few minutes. The coals should show a steady glow of heat and shouldn't be smoking. Turn the corn as the outer husk becomes black. Four or five turnings may be necessary, and usually about 10 minutes cooking time is required. Use heavy paper toweling or pot-holders or tongs to remove the hot husk. An experienced corn-on-the-cob chef can do it barehanded, using swift, short strokes. If the coals have all turned completely to white ash, you can cook the corn by burying it right in the ashes for 10 minutes, turning it once during cooking.

Corn-on-the-cob may also be charcoal broiled with aluminum foil paper. Remove husks and silk. Wrap the corn in aluminum paper, folding the ends to cover the corn completely. Corn handled in this manner will take a longer cooking time and will miss some of the charred flavor which open-air cooks love.

There's a certain amount of traditional baloney in connection with simple boiled corn which should now be cited. You'll be told by one authority to add salt, while another shaman will tell you that salt toughens the corn. Even Thoreau, a distinguished corn-on-the-cob enthusiast, mistakenly believed that salt made a difference in boiling corn. Actually, such an infinitesimal part of the salt penetrates the corn that the flavor isn't affected one way or the other. The same goes for sugar. If corn lacks its natural sweetness, adding sugar to the pot will have negligible effect.

Add nothing whatever to the boiling water. Use a pot big enough for the corn to fit comfortably into it. For outdoor crowds, a washboiler is the right vessel. Bring the cold water to a boil. Add the corn. When the water comes to a second boil, allow five minutes cooking time. If the corn isn't tender in this time, it will never be tender. Like other delicate foods, corn is spoiled by overcooking.

Roasting ears, so called, are seldom literally roasted. At outdoor corn roasts, the ears are often laid on a metal plate over the fire, then covered with a wet burlap sack and cooked until tender. This is actually a steaming process in which corn cooks in its own juice. You can roast fresh corn by placing it unhusked in a hot oven for about a half-hour, although the oven heat may become objectionable in small apartment kitchens.

There are zealots who would never dream of removing the corn from a cob except with their teeth. Other corn partisans have been imaginative enough to cut corn off the cob with a sharp knife for gourmet soups, casseroles and fritters. Here are four Playboy off-the-cob recipes, 1957 models of informal, sophisticated eating. If fresh corn isn't available for these recipes, you may use in its place vacuum-packed whole kernel corn.

[recipe_title]Corn Vichyssoise Soup[/recipe_title]

(4 servings)

The smoothest and most satisfying of cold summer soups is here welcomed into the corn belt. To remove raw corn pulp from the cob, cut each row of corn on the cob through the center of the kernels, splitting them in half. Then using the back of the knife, scrape until the pulp oozes out.

[recipe]2 tablespoons butter[/recipe]

[recipe]1 medium size onion, sliced[/recipe]

[recipe]2 leeks, white part only, sliced[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cup raw corn pulp[/recipe]

[recipe]1 1/2 cups sliced raw potatoes[/recipe]

[recipe]2 cups water[/recipe]

[recipe]2 chicken bouillon cubes[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 cup milk[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 cup light cream[/recipe]

[recipe]Salt, white pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]2 teaspoons minced chives or scallions[/recipe]

(continued on page 70)Maxims Of Maize(continued from page 32)

In a soup pot, melt the butter. Add the onion and leeks. Sauté slowly until the onion barely turns yellow. Add the corn pulp, sliced potatoes, water and bouillon cubes. Simmer slowly, for about 30 minutes, until the potatoes and other ingredients are very soft. Strain the soup by forcing it through a food mill or wire strainer. Let the soup cool to room temperature. Then chill it in the refrigerator until very cold. Add the milk and cream just before serving. Season to taste with salt and white pepper. If soup seems too thick, it may be thinned by adding more milk. Serve in pre-chilled soup cups. Sprinkle with minced chives just before delivering to the table.

[recipe_title]Fresh Crabmeat And Corn Casserole[/recipe_title]

(4 servings)

Be sure to examine the crabmeat very carefully and remove any bones and tendons before preparing the casserole.

[recipe]3 slices day-old white bread[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup butter[/recipe]

[recipe]Salad oil[/recipe]

[recipe]2 cups cooked off-the-cob kernels[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons minced green pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon minced chives or seal-lions[/recipe]

[recipe]1 pound fresh cooked crabmeat[/recipe]

[recipe]2 cups hot milk[/recipe]

[recipe]2 eggs slightly beaten[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoon salt[/recipe]

[recipe]1/8 teaspoon pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]Paprika[/recipe]

Cut the bread into half-inch squares. Melt the butter in a large frying pan. Add 1 tablespoon salad oil before the butter browns. Add the bread squares and sauté slowly, stirring constantly until the squares are brown. Remove from the fire.

In a casserole combine the bread cubes, corn kernels, minced green pepper, chives and crabmeat. Toss all ingredients in the casserole lightly. In a separate container combine the hot milk, beaten eggs, salt and pepper. Mix well. Pour the liquids into the casserole. Sprinkle lightly with paprika. Sprinkle lightly with salad oil. Bake in a preheated oven at 350° for 25 to 30 minutes or until top of the mixture feels firm when lightly touched.

[recipe_title]Ham And Corn Chili[/recipe_title]

(4 servings)

Like curry from India, chili powder is the staff of life in the hot Southwest and Mexico and a surefire stimulant for laggard summer appetites anywhere. Chili should be served with big mounds of fluffy white rice and should be washed down with cold, foamy beer.(concluded overleaf)

[recipe]1/2 lb. sliced boiled ham[/recipe]

[recipe]10-oz. can tomatoes[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons butter[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons minced onion[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons minced green pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]1 medium-size clove garlic, minced[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup dry red wine[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons flour[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon chili powder[/recipe]

[recipe]10 1/2-oz. can undiluted consommé[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cup cooked off-the-cob kernels[/recipe]

Cut the sliced ham into 1-inch squares. Chop the tomatoes fine, saving the juice. In a heavy saucepan melt the butter. Add the onion, green pepper and garlic. Sauté only until the onion turns yellow. Add the wine. Simmer until the wine is reduced in half. Remove the pan from the fire. Slowly stir in the flour and chili powder, blending till there are no lumps. Add the tomatoes with their juice. Mix well. Return the saucepan to the fire and simmer slowly. Gradually add the consommé. Add the ham. Simmer slowly 20-25 minutes, stirring frequently. Add the corn and cook only until the corn is heated through. The dish may need a slight spray of salt, depending upon the saltiness of the ham.

[recipe_title]Corn Beignets[recipe_title]

(4 servings)

Beignets are a French form of fritter made from a cooked batter. Their lightness is due to the large amount of eggs rather than the usual baking powder. You'll want maple syrup or honey with these small crisp cakes, delightful eating for breakfast, lunch or dinner.

[recipe]1 cup water[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons butter[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoon salt[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 teaspoon nutmeg[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 cup cornmeal[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 cup all-purpose flour[/recipe]

[recipe]4 eggs[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cup off-the-cob kernels[/recipe]

[recipe]Deep fat for frying[/recipe]

In a heavy saucepan, bring the water to a boil. Add the butter, salt and nutmeg. Stir until butter dissolves. Add the cornmeal and flour all at once. Remove from the flame and do not return to the fire. Stir well until all ingredients are well blended. The mixture will be very thick. Gradually add the unbeaten eggs one at a time. Stir well after each addition until the batter is very smooth. Add the corn. Place the mixture in the refrigerator until it is cold. Heat a kettle of deep fat to 370°. (If deep fat isn't practical, heat shortening or salad oil to a depth of 1/2 inch in a shallow pan.) Drop the batter by heaping tablespoons into the hot fat. Fry, turning once, until brown on both sides. Drain on absorbent paper. Serve while very hot. Fold back your cuffs and get with it.