For me, there is one food that epitomizes summertime more than any other: fresh corn on the cob. Okay, sure. There are lots of foods—specifically produce—that we associate with this season. Farmer's markets and picnic tables abound with vine-ripened tomatoes, a plethora of berries and more varieties of stone fruit than I could possibly identify. However, if I'm being honest, I often cheat on these summertime finds. Thanks to modern conveniences and to my local supermarket, I buy most of these things all year ( keeping in mind, of course, that they're never quite as good as they are in peak season ) .
Corn, however, stands in a class of its own. Yes—you can buy it canned, and you can buy it frozen. But I'm here to tell you: I never, ever buy ears of corn any other time but in the summer. If I don't shuck it, I don't eat it. And you should live by that rule, too.
This is why, when we decided to focus our current Amuse Bouche series around farmer's market finds, I knew I'd want to begin with a corn-centered recipe. I ran through my inventory of dishes. There's my homemade creamed corn ( with enough butter and cream to make you blush ) ; chunky cornbread with sharp cheddar and jalapenos; corn cakes or "hoe cakes," as we affectionately call them down South; and corn pudding, corn fritters and corn casserole. There's also the fancy-schmancy corn-and-tomato tart that I perfected this year or the fresh corn with chipotle cream and lime zest that I saw in at least three different magazines.
I had nearly settled on a recipe when I received a short e-mail from my best friend. "I had the most amazing corn soup at this restaurant," she wrote. "I need you to figure out the recipe." She didn't remember much about the soup, except that the waiter told her it was made with, "corn, corn stock and cornstarch." It was like some kind of corn-inspired serendipity. I had a mission, and I had my dish.
The Andersonville farmer's market—located in a notoriously LGBT-friendly part of Chicago—has been my go-to for weeks. So, last Wednesday evening, I walked to the market with a mission: buy corn and lots of it. For several weeks, I've been buying corn from Twin Garden Farms. The farm is based in Harvard, Ill., and it boasts a breed of corn—Mirai corn—that is supposed to be "the finest sweet corn available in the world." Although that's a reputation all farmers lovingly give their crops, these people ain't lying. In fact, the batch I bought for this soup was so sweet that I actually debated whether or not it was too sweet for such a savory recipe. Turns out, it was just right.
It was time to get back to my challenge. I had to make a corn soup recipe—one that used corn, corn stock and cornstarch—that was similar to what my friend had tried before. Since I consider myself a fairly capable soup-maker, I approached the task the way I would any other soup. First, I needed stock. I've made chicken stock by boiling chicken carcass and shrimp stock using shrimp skins, it seemed reasonable that corn cobs would do the trick. They did. From there, it was a matter of trial and error. I ended up only needing half of the stock that I made, so I adjusted the recipe. I found myself adding a lot of savory seasonings to offset the natural sweetness of the corn, so I just taste-tested until I found the right balance. Then, I knew I wanted to finish the soup with a garnish that contrasted with the already creamy texture. Any excuse for bacon, right?
In the end, the soup tasted delicious. Did it taste just like the soup that the restaurant served? Probably not. Nonetheless, it was my soup. I started with a fresh, seasonal ingredient, and I played around. I wouldn't dare make this soup with anything but the freshest corn. So, in a month or two, this recipe will have to go in the drawer; it will be replaced with cold weather recipes. Next summer, there will be a new harvest, a new crop of corn, and—most likely—a new pot of soup.
Corn soup with bacon, creme fraiche and chives
—Eight ears of corn
—Three cups chicken broth
—Two cups water
—Two bay leaves
—One medium onion, diced
—Two cloves of garlic, grated
—Two tbsp. butter
—Two tbsp. olive oil
—½ cup heavy cream
—One tbsp. cornstarch
—One tsp. chili powder
—Three slices of bacon, cooked and chopped
—Two tbsp. chives, chopped
—One-quarter cup creme fraiche
—Salt and pepper
1. Cut the corn off of the eight ears. Set the corn aside. Place the leftover cobs in a large pot with broth, water and bay leaves. Simmer cobs and liquid for one hour. Remove bay leaves and cool.
2. Heat olive oil in a large saute pan. Over medium heat, sauté the onions, garlic and corn. Cook until the onions are translucent ( about 10 minutes ) . Add salt and pepper to taste.
3. After the vegetable mixture has cooked, add butter, heavy cream and chili powder to the pan. Simmer until the cream begins to thicken.
4. Once the cream has thickened a bit, you must combine the corn stock and the vegetable mixture and then puree. If you have an immersion blender, you can do this in the pot. Otherwise, you can puree the stock/vegetable mixture in the blender. You should do this in two to three batches.
5. Combine all of the pureed soup in one pot and simmer on medium-low. If you want your soup to be a little thicker—which I did—you can add the cornstarch. Make sure that you dissolve the cornstarch in a quarter-cup of cold water before adding it to the soup.
6. Add more salt and pepper to taste and simmer for an additional 10 minutes.
7. Serve the soup with bacon crumbles, a spoonful of creme fraiche and chopped chives. These are not just garnishes. They complete the dish!
