In the Palatinate region of Germany, fields and fields of cornstalks frame the old narrow roads that connect the various villages and towns. Most of that corn goes to animal feed, not humans. “Lucky animals,” a corn-bred Southerner like me might think, but according to my fiancé’s great-aunt Margit, who hosted us for part of the summer, German maize is starchy seed corn destined for pigs, cows and chickens and not the plump, primrose sweet corn or the bags of frozen kernels that line grocery stores in America year round.
The reason we eat the foods we eat can often feel arbitrary; you may have to look at them from a different vantage point to find their beauty. Raised in Georgia on the corniest casseroles, stuffings, breads and salads, I hadn’t realized how much I’d taken corn for granted, which is a shame because it’s so great. It’s corn!
If you’re John and Becky Altobelli of Kinderhook, N.Y., it’s easy to see corn’s beauty. On their family farm, the Altobellis grow a locally beloved corn that’s not just sweet but also full of flavor, the kind of singular taste one can describe only if you’ve had it. Fresh sweet corn, aromatic, savory and chamomile yellow, is less a constant for me than it is a seasonal treat, occasional sparks that have, over the years, made me go, “Oh, that’s what corn tastes like.”
Recipe: Mayo Corn Fried Rice
If you’re in the business of corn, as the Altobellis are, the best way to preserve a taste this fleeting is by freezing it. They’ve got the method down pat: Boil whole, shucked corn cobs for just a few minutes, until their pale color sets into a brilliant yellow. (Freezing raw kernels works just fine, but according to the University of Minnesota, boiling them first prevents bacterial growth during the freezing process and inactivates enzymes that would otherwise deteriorate the color, texture and flavor.) Chill the blanched corn in an ice bath, then set it aside to dry. Cut the kernels off the cob, then rinse and drain them well. Scoop them into freezer bags, press out as much air as you can and freeze. Account for about seven ears per quart bag.
How you cut off the kernels doesn’t matter. Do it in a way that makes you feel happy, even a little smug. Becky Altobelli takes an electric blade to a cob resting in the center of a Bundt pan. Watch and be amazed as all the kernels tumble into the metal moat! These days, I take my colleague Melissa Clark’s lead and rest my cobs horizontally on a cutting board, then rotate as I cut off long, beaded quilts. The chef and cookbook author Brendan Liew cuts each cob in half crosswise, then uses a Japanese technique called katsuramuki: Holding one-half of the cob in his left hand, he places his chef’s knife blade parallel to it and, “using a small amount of force,” turns the sweet little cylinder into the knife, slicing off whole kernels, as if peeling an apple. “You don’t get the partial kernels that you’d get cutting straight down the cob,” he said, “and kernels don’t go flying off the cutting board since the kernels slide onto the blade, which can then be deposited into a bowl.”
I want my corn to be deposited into a frying pan with rice, onions and soy sauce, something easy on the stomach. Fried rice tastes best with summer corn, whether fresh or frozen. As the corn toasts with the rice, a nuttiness perfumes the kitchen with a scent reminiscent of movie-theater popcorn. In this recipe, a smidge of mayonnaise stirred into cold day-old white rice separates the grains; when fried, this lubricated rice browns beautifully with zero oil splatter (because there is no oil). What you’re left with is a pure-tasting fried rice, in which the rice and corn — not the cooking fat — star. This smart trick comes from Liew, 39, as documented in his cookbooks “Konbini” and “Tokyo Up Late.” When he worked in restaurants in Japan, the staff’s family meal was often fried rice cobbled together not from cold rice, as is often recommended in fried-rice recipes like this one, but from still-sticky, leftover sushi rice, which needs a little help to fry dry. It doesn’t hurt that mayonnaise also lends its gentle egginess and whispers, “Elotes!” when paired with corn.
Right now, we’re living in an age of fresh sweet corn. Some varieties have the cutest names: “Rosie is the crowd favorite,” John Altobelli, 59, said of his best-selling corn, also listing off its less-famous sisters Kate and Raquel. When I asked him what he would name his variety were he to invent one, he didn’t hesitate: Noah (after his grandson). Becky would name her variety Sun Kissed. I would name mine Margit, after the golden marguerite, also known as the chamomile flower, and my generous German host, whose only grandson is also Noah and whose last name is, appropriately, Körner.
The post The Simple Secret to the Best Fried Rice? Mayo and Corn. appeared first on New York Times.
