Corn and Radishes

Corn and radishes go from bright and juicy to woody, in the space of a week. As soon as the first delicate little corn kernels are just raising themselves off of the cob, but are still not completely plumped out, we madly start eating the corn. By the end of the week, the kernels are turning chalky and it’s an effort to get through a whole ear of corn. From then the kernels quickly become wrinkled and inedible, and the few ears that are still mildly edible, were the slow starters, so slightly deformed.

Picking the corn a bit early was a battle I fought long and hard to win with farmer husband, Tadaaki. For him, it sounded wasteful to eat the immature corn.

Remember how I said that corn comes and goes in a week? The reality of that is that the corn from our field is at its peak for really only three days. Of course, we stagger planting, but we still plant a whole row in the field, and there are probably about 30 to 40 plants in each row. This year, Tadaaki was clever and planted a few varieties that had different maturing rates. The corn was even more clever and all seemed to mature exponentially at their peak. And one segued into the other so we had about two weeks solid of corn. Then nothing.

I love a lot of food in Japan, but the typical Japanese corn is not one of them. So unless we grow it, I don’t eat corn. For some unknown reason, Japanese love mature corn with broad dark yellow, very sweet (and starchy) kernels. And they boil the corn for a while. Until dead. They also eat the corn at room temperature. Too weird.

I had a friend who worked in an Iowa cornfield one summer when she was a teenager. She described how they prepared the corn for eating: pick the corn, husk, and run to the boiling water pot waiting on the stove. Turn off water and dump in corn. Cover and let “cook” for 3 minutes in the hot water. Remove with tongs and eat with salt and butter. I follow that method, but these days skip the butter.

Tadaaki takes it one step further and always eats a raw ear of corn while he’s still on the field. Now that’s fresh.

We planted the corn and radishes (late) in early June with the SSU! kindergarteners and elementary kids that come for After School Club. I prepared two sticks and we tied a hot pink nylon ribbon-string to one of them. A big kid walked down the field until I called, “Stop!” and we tied off the other end of the ribbon string onto the stick another kid was holding. We eyeballed a straight line and the two kids rammed their sticks into the loose dirt to mark the line. Hoeing a little trough out left me huffing and puffing, but it was a job I could not hand off. It’s harder than you’d think. Even I couldn’t quite keep the line straight and evenly dug.

I devised a system to give everyone a chance to plant, but also to avoid the massive seed dumping in one area. It worked. I lined up the kids at regularly spaced out intervals along the waiting trough and starting with the first kid, sprinkled some seeds in her hand. I then pointed to the place she should plop two or three seeds and thus moved down the line. As we planted subsequent rows, they started getting the hang of it. I’m working towards a less stressful, better-managed field experience with the kids, so am investing time in training them. The corn was slow to sprout, but the radish shoots popped up nicely the following week and valiantly raced against the fast-growing weeds over the following three weeks until their plump red bulbs underground had reached optimum maturity.

The radishes, scallions, and lettuces were drowning under the weed cover, so one day the whole school went out to the field to weed. The SSU! kids carried straw from the neighboring wheat field to lay down under the tomato plants. “Don’t step on the tomatoes!” was the refrain that day. My assistant Yumiko weeded the radishes and I asked her to pick radishes for lunch that day. She announced they were ready to crop, so we picked a big basketful. I meant to go back that evening to get more, but was distracted, and in the end missed the chance. One day of radishes was all we got this year, and that was my fault. Sometimes it’s hard to keep up and keep track. The radishes were hot and explosively flavorful, so even the kids couldn't resist them dipped in salt. I had some that night with miso as well, but am still longing for a few more. I suppose that’s what keeps me going, that desire to eat that special thing we have planted, I just wish I had more power to tend them.

Most of the heirloom corn seeds from Berkeley horticulture didn’t sprout, resulting in a scraggly looking row that also 

Most of the heirloom corn seeds from Berkeley Horticulture didn’t sprout (poor choices on my part), resulting in a scraggly looking row that also suffered from the weed explosion. It has been blazing hot during the day this summer and while cooler in the late afternoon, the mosquitos come out in droves, so weeding is a nightmare. I was working my way through my field trying to save the herbs, lettuce, Mexican corn, tomatoes, chives and scallions, but still hadn’t made it to my pathetic American corn stalks. Seeing me drowning, Tadaaki compassionately took a weed-whacker to the field, thus rendering the job finally manageable. The Mexican seeds I bought in the Ixtapa market were most likely meant for posole, and perhaps genetically modified not to propagate, as the 50 odd 10-feet tall stalks are singularly lacking in actual corn. At least the stalks are healthy. After all that work, we may get about 6 ears of Mexican corn and a perhaps two or three American. Oh well, it’s all a learning experience. Whenever I ask Tadaaki how to do something on the field his answer is always, “Just do it, then you’ll learn.” Of course when I “do it,” it’s most likely in some way wrong. But I am learning.

This summer, as we raced to eat four rows of corn in those two short weeks, I wondered if 

This summer, as we raced to eat four rows of corn in those two short weeks, I wondered if 

This summer, as we raced to eat four rows of corn in those two short weeks, I wondered if people really understood that corn takes three months to grow, but must be eaten within a week. In a blink of an eye it is gone. Fairly mind boggling when you think of the long growth process (and weeding), juxtaposed by the short window of maturity. The ephemeral nature of radishes is easier to wrap one’s head around because they only take one month to grow. One year I sent an email inviting friends to an afternoon lunch party and wrote that we had planted radishes for the party. The concept of growing something for a party blew away my Tokyo friends.

I still have a chance to harvest a couple ears of my fresh corn, (the Mexican one is meant to be dried), but that is it for the year. I can plant some radishes at the end of August, and hope I’m back from California when they’re at their peak. Another reason why Tadaaki says I shouldn’t travel—I miss the vegetables when they’re at their best. But then that’s the Japanese farmer mentality: don’t leave home. I guess I’ll never be a farmer.  

This summer, as we raced to eat four rows of corn in those two short weeks, I wondered if 

Japanese farmer mentality: don’t leave home. I guess I’ll never be a farme

 

Corn Cakes: These are adapted from a recipe in Chez Panisse Vegetables. The original method called for corn flour, but we don't produce that, so I substituted our own home grown four and some tasty organic corn meal I had. I also doubled the corn as I was looking for a big corn taste. Set corncob in a large bowl, and cut kernels off of 4 ears young corn with a sharp knife. After all the kernels are removed, go over cob with the back of the knife to get the juicy corn "meat" still adhering to the cob. Whisk 3/4 cup (75 g) organic flour, 3/4 cup (125 g) organic corn meal, and 1 teaspoon salt together in another large bowl.

Break 2 large farm eggs into a medium-sized bowl (preferably copper). Scoop the yolks out one by one into a small bowl by cupping your fingers gently under them (or use half of an empty shell). Heat 1 cup (240 cc) milk, ½ tablespoon organic sugar, and 4 tablespoons (60 grams) unsalted butter in a small saucepan over low flame until butter has melted. Let cool a few minutes and add in egg yolks. Slowly add milk and egg mixture to cornmeal mixture stirring constantly with whisk or wooden spoon to avoid lumps. When batter is smooth, stir in corn kernels.

Depending on size of your pan, heat a tablespoon or two of high-quality rapeseed, canola or peanut oil in a large nonstick frying pan over medium heat. Ladle in 3 or 4 scoops of batter with a soup ladle and cook until golden brown on bottom. Flip with a flat spatula and continue cooking until the second side is golden brown. If the cakes are thick, cook covered for a few minutes on low to conduct heat to the center. Remove to a paper-towel lined plate or cookie tray. Serve with a summer meal. Also would be good for breakfast with melted butter and homemade raspberry jam. Makes 20 3-inch cakes.

 

Corn “Kakiage” Fritters: Tadaaki hops the train every Thursday afternoon and travels an hour each way to practice the samurai arts of iaijutsu, kenjutsu and jujitsu. On one of those nights I got into a cooking frenzy and made salt broiled mackerel pike, salt-massaged cucumbers with miso and sesame, stir-fried eggplant with red pepper and miso, and served some beautiful local tofu with hand grated fresh wasabi. I also made corn “kakiage” fritters.

Baachan ("Granny") tends to fade as the hour gets late, so I was racing to get some food on the table before she conked out. Serving Tadaaki-style (one dish at a time), I called the boys and Baachan to the table to start eating without me. And in the kitchen, I munched on a crunchy-squishy corn kakiage, dipping the corner in sea salt before each subsequent burning hot bite. I ate two. They were that good.

Cut kernels off of 6 small ears of young corn as described in above recipe. Chop 2 scallions into fine rings (white and green part). Dump the corn kernels and scallions into 1 recipe tempura batter, add five ice cubes, and stir. Remove ice cubes. Follow directions for making tempura batter, heating oil and preparing workspace. Use excellent quality light oil, but only add 2” (5 cm) of oil to a a10-inch (25 cm) frying pan. Ladle in 4 scoops of batter with a soup ladle.

Cook over medium high heat until golden brown on bottom. Carefully turn over using two heat-resistant curved rubber scrapers.  Cook until the second side is golden brown and the oil bubbles have mainly subsided (indicating the water has cooked out). Remove from oil with a flat round slotted skimmer to the newspaper and paper towel lined cookie tray you have prepared. Eat immediately with fine white sea salt or organic soy sauce. Makes 8.

 

Comments

[Casey@Good. Food. Stories.]

Months to grow, but only a week to eat... that sounds about right for everything we plant in our (VERY small) garden. And the heat is making it worse - I've had beans wither on the vine from one day to the next if I don't get to them!

I'll leave the corn-growing to the *real* farmers up the road from our house, but will definitely use their bounty to make your kakiage.

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Casey, I feel like I'm barely hanging on here and can't always keep up with Twitter. But like Barnaby Dorfman explains, Twitter is like a stream, so I just jump in when I can. How was the New York crowd? Sounds like a bunch of you got together (though hard to keep track).

The great thing about having just one or two precious beans is that they're yours and they have so much incredible background behind them. Lots of work sometimes yields a little, but I'd still say that it is worth the effort for the feeling of eating something so special as your few little beans. I hope you ate them raw dipped in salt, or au naturel.

I think you'll like the kakiage...great with a beer as well. Nancy

[Mora]

Ahh, summer corn. I spent my elementary years in northern New Jersey where corn and tomatoes were greeted with great enthusiasm in our house. To this day there are no better memories than those summer meals. My father, who was born on a cotton farm in the pan handle of Texas, taught me how to shuck corn. To your point, it was never overcooked, and always eaten as soon as it came out of the pot. I'm especially fond of raw, sweet corn for it's pure taste. As a young child I found running through corn fields...more like hiding...the epitome of a day spent buying fresh corn for dinner. Thanks for triggering such fond memories, Nancy.

[Garrett]

I feel ya on the corn. We missed ours by a week or two and it was inedible starch for the most part except for one or two cobs. Sad, really. Props to your seed smuggling all the way from Mexico. ;)

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Mora: Thanks for those memories. Funny how we grow the corn much closer here so it's hard to run through the rows. Also funny how as a kid you didn't mind the weeds. Were there any? Kids these days aren't fond of the field in the summer...even the SSU! kids. It's pretty itchy. But that's part of life, wouldn't you say?

Garrett: In the end, I missed those three ears of American corn on my field as well. I better keep an eye on my Mexican corn. It's a tricky business getting it dried without molding. Tortillas this winter? I've got my molino, though not sure my slaked lime is still active. See you in September!