One Local Summer Week #5

Sometimes just one ingredient inspires an entire meal. This week, it was okra.

I sauntered up to one of my favorite farmers' stalls this week, hoping to pick up some blue lake green beans, a sweet cantaloupe, and some tomatoes, when I spotted the gorgeous, slender green fruit staring up at me. There was no hesitation, I immediately started scooping up a handful and filling my bag. I had never seen okra offered at the market before.


As I wandered home, I was hit with another surprise--my tomato plants were finally bearing ripe, vibrant red fruit. What's a girl to do, faced with okra and tomatoes, but whip up some gumbo ?


Unfortunately, I had verified my suspicions earlier in the week that there was little local meat to be had in Southern California, so I was resigned to a vegetarian gumbo. I do have to pause a moment to offer a very gracious thanks to Jay Porter of the Linkery, who was kind enough to spend a solid amount of time answering my questions about local meat and pointing me in several directions including Catalina Offshore Products seafood, A & W Emu ranch, and Creston Valley Meats in Central California (the closest sustainably-minded processing plant he had been able to find). I really appreciate all the information you were willing to lend me Jay, and look forward to exploring all of my options.

As for my gumbo, it took little time for me to head to my favorite N'Awlins website, Chuck Taggart's, and even less time to find a recipe for Gumbo Z'Herbes, a bewitching concoction of southern greens. Chuck, by the way, compiled the ever-solid Doctors, Professors, Kings & Queens: the Big ol' Box of New Orleans box set, which is well worth listening to, especially while you take an afternoon to cook up some gumbo.

What instantly attracted me to Gumbo Z'Herbes was it's use of a myriad of greens, including greens I usually just toss into the compost bin--beet greens, carrot tops, and turnip greens. In fact, some recipes I found called for no less than 10 different types of greens (a number that, apparently, some brave cooks upheld so vehemently that they would sneak into others' gardens and snip the tops off of their neighbor's root vegetables). What I instantly have to emphasize, especially after promising that you should use up to ten otherwise-disposed-of greens, is Chuck's reassurance: "This is an absolutely delicious gumbo. Don't be afraid of it."

The recipe, I'm guessing, will scare some people off instantly. Who wants to eat a concoction of mustard greens, beet greens, turnip greens, and carrot tops? The result, I'm willing to gamble, will turn skeptics into converts after their first meal.


The flavor, for a bunch of stewed vegetables, was deep, complex, and satisfying. I actually looked up a number of recipes and, based on what I had on hand and locally, adapted them all. The key here, I realized, was modification--whatever you happen to have on hand I recommend throwing into the pot.

(You don't have to believe me for that matter:

"I’m convinced that part of gumbo’s virtue, aside from its deliciousness, is that the dish is very forgiving of the cook. Measurements do not have to be exact, ingredients may be changed to use what is on hand, and unless the diners are so set in their ways that they can’t appreciate change, the result will be quite good."
-Stanley Dry, A Short History of Gumbo)

Here were my inspirations:

Chuck Taggart's Gumbo Z'Herbes recipe (I didn't have local ham)
Leah Chase's Gumbo Z'Herbes recipe (from the Dooky Chase Restaurant)
Regan Burns' recipe for Gumbo Z'Herbes as posted on Chow.com (the technique which I found the most practical to follow)

And here was my final result:

Local Gumbo Z'Herbes

greens
8 cups water
salt
1 bunch beet greens
1 bunch turnip greens
1 bunch carrot tops
3 onions, diced
3 cloves garlic, diced

tomatoes
8 small tomatoes

roux:
3 tbsp oil
3 tbsp flour (non-local for me)

"holy trinity":
1 onion, diced
3 small carrots, diced
1 red or green pepper, diced

the rest
salt
pepper
1 tsp. cayenne

1 tbsp. dill
1 small zucchini, diced
8 baby sunburst squash, diced
corn from 2 ears, cut from cobs.

Heat water and salt in large pot over high heat
meanwhile, place all greens in a pot of cold water, swirl to release dirt, drain pot. Repeat 2-3 times, until water runs clear.
Dice greens coursely.
when water is boiling, add greens, three diced onions, and 3 cloves garlic to pot. reduce heat to medium and simmer, covered, for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
during last two minutes, add tomatoes to blanch.
Drain, reserving liquid (important!)
remove tomatoes from greens and peel, discarding peel and reserving flesh.
puree all but 1/4 of greens in a food processor. Set both pureed and non-pureed greens aside.

make roux: heat oil in large, heavy bottomed pot. slowly whisk in flour and cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, for 10-15 minutes, until roux turns golden to dark brown.
add onion, carrots, and pepper, and cook for 5 minutes, until vegetables are soft
add garlic, stir for 30 seconds until fragrant
add tomato flesh, stir for 30 seconds
add salt, pepper, and cayenne
add squash, corn, and dill
add reserved cooking liquid and bring to a rapid simmer
cook, 15 minutes uncovered, until vegetables are tender
stir in pureed and non-puree greens
continue to cook 10-15 minutes, partially covered until gumbo thickens
continue to simmer on low up to 30 more minutes if needed.

serve warm



Notes:

1. I added two un-local ingredients to this gumbo. One was flour, which is both an integral and indispensable part of gumbo. Two was file powder, which, is a less essential (gumbo can be made without it) but equally important component of Gumbo. Were I living near Lionel Key Jr., I would certainly try to seek out his version. (Regarding that link--it is part of the Southern Foodways Alliance Oral History Project, one of the best food-traditions projects I've come across. Their website is well worth exploring).

2. The next day, I cooked two sausages (casings removed) and stirred the meat into the leftover gumbo as it was re-heating. Again, if you have local pork, I highly recommend making this recipe with meat.

3. Gumbo is best followed up with an equally satisfying dessert. Fearing the end of the strawberry season and finding my first local rhubarb, I opted for my first ever strawberry-rhubarb pie (actually my first 100% homemade pie for that matter). The organic flour, organic vegetable shortening, sugar and vanilla weren't local, but the crust was homemade, the fruit was local, and the filling was damn delicious.

One Local Summer week #4

Ever since beginning the One Local Summer exercise, I have been in search of something that has long since vanished from the typical American diet: traditional cuisine. I have been convinced there must be a way to go back to eating before freezers, chemical preservatives, and round-the-world shipping changed our concept of dinner (and changed dinner's environmental footprint). Very much in line with Gary Nabhan in his book Coming Home to Eat, I found myself wanting to eat meals made without processed goods prepared by strangers, machines, and corporations.

Certain of these meals are easy for me—I can whip up a salad in no time, throw some vegetables on the grill, or prepare some fish or some eggs for a more substantial meal. But I’m participating in One Local Summer partly because I want to step outside my comfort zone, to go beyond what I already know to see what is possible eating within my own foodshed.

An idea I had since starting One Local Summer, which I’d only pursued haphazardly until now, was to investigate traditional uses of corn, which constitutes the staple grain of much of Southern and Central America. For me, eating corn meant throwing fresh corn cobs onto the grill, but I wanted to move past this. I wanted to transform corn from a vegetable to a starch—to have it serve as an alternative to potatoes, rice, or pasta rather than vegetal accompaniment.

Of course, using corn as a starch means converting it into flour, known as masa. Of course, since the whole idea of this exercise is to not rely on transported commercial products, I quickly realized this would mean doing it myself. Daunted but determined (the process looked quite labor intensive), my mind raced with possibilities. Converting corn into flour would mean using corn to make bread and dough (or tortillas and tamales), a remarkably luring possibility from an eating-local standpoint, considering there aren’t any flour mills to be found in Southern California.

That’s when I came across a recipe adapted for Epicurious from Chef Francis Mallman, an Argentine Chef: Andean Humita en Chala. Humitas are a traditional Argentinian food similar to the tamal of Central America. This recipe, as well as one I later found in the book Tamales 101, by Alice Guadalupe Tapp, used only fresh corn, not processed corn masa. Happily putting the whole corn-to-masa process on hold, I had this week’s meal.

While the recipe I found was for plain Humitas, I decided to spice mine up a bit, mostly because I came across two new local products this week (which also happen to be two of my favorite food categories): mushrooms and cheese.

The mushrooms were from Mountain Meadow Mushroom Farm in Escondido, a gorgeous bag of shitake and portabella caps. The cheese was actually two kinds of Gouda from Winchester Cheese Company--possibly the only commercial farmstead cheese within 150 miles of me. Mary Palmer, who sold me the cheese at Taste cheese shop in Hillcrest, was kind enough to emphasize that the cheese was not just artisinal--made in small batches with the utmost care--but was farmstead, meaning that everything that went into the making of the cheese was gathered from the Winchester cheese property. She urged me to go out to visit, as they gladly offer tours and demonstrations (she also recommended waiting until the fall, when the desert heat calms down).

Cheese and mushrooms--I don't think I've come across two better discoveries this summer. Here's how I concocted them into a meal:

mushroom and gouda humitas, served alongside Winchester Gouda, bread from Charlie's Best bakery, and a simple arugula and yellow tomato salad. (And yes, because I have a weakness for artisinal cheese, that's a small slice of non-local Humbolt Fog goat cheese you see on the cutting board.)

Mushroom and Gouda Humitas
Adapted from Chef Francis Mallman's recipe

Serves 3

Dough
4 ears corn, husks on
3 small carrots
1/2 onion
basil
salt
pepper
1/4 cup milk

Carefully make ring 1/4" from bottom of each corn cob to loosen husks. Carefully remove husks one layer at a time.
reserve removed husks, separating outer and inner layers into two piles
repeat for all 4 ears.

heat oil in skillet over medium heat, add diced carrot and onion. cook about 8 minutes until vegetables are translucent.
cut kernels from cobs, discard cobs.
grate kernels in food processor until fine, about 45-60 seconds
add cooked onion and carrot, milk, basil, salt and pepper and pulse for 15 seconds.
transfer mixture to bowl and chill until firm, about 30 minutes.
meanwhile, make filling (recipe below)

Filling
1/2 onion
2 cloves garlic
1 tbsp oil or butter (I used oil because it was local; otherwise I would have used butter)
8 shitake mushrooms, stems removed, sliced thin
1 small portabella mushroom, stem removed
1/4 cup red wine
1 tsp honey
1/4 cup finely grated sharp Gouda

heat oil in large skillet over medium heat
sautee onion until translucent
add garlic, cook for 30 seconds until fragrant
add mushrooms, wine and honey
cook 7 mintues, stirring frequently
remove from heat, stir in Gouda
set mixture aside

Assembly
Select 12 widest outer husks and 6 inner husks. wash carefully
tie a knot at the skinny end of each inner husk. starting at other end, slit husk vertically, up to knot. You should now have one long strand twice the length of the original husk. This will be used to tie the humitas.
Form the humitas: "Lay 2 of widest husks side by side (narrow ends at top and bottom), overlapping a few inches to form rectangle."
spoon 2 heaping spoonfuls of dough where the husks overlap. top with one spoonful of filling, and a third spoonful of dough.
"fold sides over to cover filling. Fold in top and bottom to make enclosed rectangular package. Tie crosswise with knotted husk. Repeat with remaining filling and husks."

Place completed humitas on baking sheet and bake in 350 degree oven for 15 minutes.



UPDATE: Ok, so I was so happy with this recipe that I made it again later in the week, although with not 100% local ingredients. If you've got local pork, I recommend the second version. Prepare dough as above, but substitute filling and top with apricot glaze and peach salsa.

Apricot-chipotle pork filling
1/2 red pepper
1 smaill red onion
2 pork chops, diced into 1" squares
6 small apricots, diced
2 chipotle chiles, diced
1/2 can beer
1 tbsp butter

saute onion, pepper, saute till transulcent. add pork, browning on all sides add diced apricots and chipotle. add beer. bring to boil, reduce heat to low, simmer about 10 minutes, or until pork is cooked through. Remove pork, turn heat to high and reduce remaining sauce to 1/2. Add butter and stir until thickened. Reserve sauce to spoon over cooked tamales (reheat before serving).

peach, green tomato and chipotle salsa
1 peach
1/2 green tomato
1 chopotle chile

dice all ingredients and combine. refrigerate for 1/2 hour to 2 hours.

One Local Summer Week #3

"If you go into a situation with nothing planned, sometimes wonderful stuff happens." -Jerry Garcia

This weeks meal started with a wish for simplicity. I had just sent off the last of the out of town guests after a week of constant entertaining, and was looking for something no-fuss to prepare. Having missed my weekend trips to the farmers' markets, I woke up Wednesday planning to head to another neighborhood's farmers' market after work (Ocean Beach). I figured I'd just pick up whatever vegetables looked best, grab a dozen eggs and whip together a fritatta or a souffle and call it a meal.

That's when I picked up the Food and Wine and Bon Appetit issues that had arrived earlier in the week. All it took was one bus trip to work and my head was spinning with ideas. Simplicity flew out the window, creativity flew in right on cue to take its place. The result, I dare say, I'd stake my reputation on.

Instead of one simple fritatta, I picked out three recipes I wanted to try for dinner. (If you ask anyone who's been a dinner guest of mine, I can tend to get carried away preparing a meal; this was no exception.) All three were do-able with local ingredients, something I was pretty proud that I recognized before even making it to the market.

At the Ocean Beach market, I picked up a few staples and a few new, exciting finds. From Richie's Roasted Products (no website) I found air-roasted chiles--which were being roasted right before my eyes in the farmer's market stall. An ingenious contraption that looked a little like a bingo wheel was being turned by hand crank while three fire-spewing valves threw flames onto the contents of the revolving metal cylinder. Bright green chilies danced inside, tumbling atop one another like, well, bingo balls. I picked up a bag of pasillo peppers, enticed by the description of their nutty taste. A caveat here--the peppers are actually from Mexico, so not 100% local, but they were roasted right there in front of me!

I also found another source of potatoes (my favorite potato farmer having finished the season's crop already): Gama Farms in Fullerton and Arvinca. I couldn't resist the gorgeous baby yukon gold creamers, and, because the baby potatoes were $4 a pound, also picked up some larger, $2/lb, yukon golds to throw into the mix (my 20-year old brother and his bottomless stomach having consumed much of my food budget earlier in the week). I picked up a red onion from Milagro farm in Aguanca CA, some radishes and cilantro, some vibrant baby yellow tomatoes from Carlsbad, and was off to whip up my meal.

(that rather strange dark mass in the plastic bag is the roasted pasillo peppers)

Waiting for me at home was some leftover zucchini, some darling cipollini onions, and of course my potted herbs and "local pantry"--the cooking staples I had managed to stockpile so far: olive oil, honey, ginger, and jam. Oh, and the stash of frozen fish I had come home with last week.

My trip to Point Loma Seafoods last week had a delicious twist when I walked out the door. Set up on the pier was a long canopy, with a row of ice-filled coolers underneath. It was the World Famous Smoked Fish Co., a stand I recognized from my Sunday morning farmers market but that I had never stopped at. Curious, I went over, and started asking whether any of the fish for sale was local. Mark Stratton, manning the booth, could not have said sweeter words--not only was some of the fish local, all the local fish he had had been caught less than 24 hours ago. I walked away with my arms full of sea bass, yellowtail, and albacore, my mind swimming with future meal ideas.

Here's what I spun together for this week's meal:

grilled yellowtail & cipollini onion kebobs with ginger-chili marinade
Ok, this is the dish I'd stake my reputation on. I don't claim this that often, but one spoonful of the marinade and my tastebuds were blown away. I don't take credit for it--the stunning flavors of this marinade stem from the individual excellence of the local products I used, particularly the subtle smoky sweetness of the wildflower honey I have from Chrystal's Pure Honey in Borrego Springs, the slight tartness of Jackie's Jams Apricoty Jam, and the nutty roasted pasillo pepper from Richie's Roasted Products.

This recipe was based on a recipe from Bon Appetit's August issue, Tuna Kebobs with Ginger-Chile Marinade (The 13 Things You'll Make all Summer, p. 85). The original recipe called for rice vinegar, peanut oil, sesame oil, and soy sauce; to make it local I omitted the Asian ingredients and added local apricot jam. The result was a less liquidy marinade, almost like a wet rub, with the combination of sweet (jam, honey) and spicy (roasted pepper) creating a bewitching combination of flavors. The amount here is enough for two servings--it is easily doubled.

2 tbsp. grated fresh ginger
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 tbsp. apricot jam
2 tbsp. honey
1/2 roasted pasillo pepper, diced
1 tbsp. cilantro, diced
fresh ground pepper
1/2 lb. fresh yellowtail, diced into 1" cubes
1 zucchini, sliced thick
10 small cipollini onions
1 tbsp. oil
salt
pepper

combine first 7 ingredients and mix well. set 2 tbsp. marinade aside

coat fish in remaining marinade; let sit, refrigerated, for 1/2 hour.
toss zuccini and onions in oil, salt, and pepper
thread fish cubes, onions, and zucchini slices onto skewers
grill kebabs over medium-high heat about 6 minutes.
brush reserved marinade over kebabs and serve

Nicoise Potato Salad
I again modified a recipe in Bon Appetit's August Issue (Farmers' Market Salad with Spiced Goat Cheese Rounds, page 79) to use what I had at hand. The salad, which is essentially a nicoise salad, featured steamed and chilled new potatoes and green beans tossed with kalamata olives, grape tomatoes, basil and salad greens. I omitted the salad greens, resulting in a potato salad of sorts that worked great as a side dish. For lunch the next day, I added a hard boiled egg (local) and some greens and converted the side dish into a suitable entree. The dressing was a simple dijon vinaigrette--red wine vinegar, shallot, fresh thyme, dijon mustard, and olive oil; it was the other component of my meal that was not local (although I do know a source for local balsamic vinaigrette).

Grilled Corn and Radish Salad with Spicy Lime Dressing
I found this recipe in Food and Wine's August Issue (Zesty Salads and More, page 106) and made only minor modifications. The original recipe called for raw corn; since I had the grill on for the fish kebabs I threw the corn on as well. The recipe also called for Italian parsley, cumin and a jalepeno; I used cilantro and a roasted pasillo pepper and omitted the cumin to keep the dish 100% local.

One Local Summer Week #2: Liquid San Diego

Oops. I'm a little late this week. Prepared my meal on Monday but haven't had a chance to write about it until now (family in town, and an annual, albeit not quite local tradition-Thanksgiving in July-took all of my energy). But now that the sea has calmed, I'm finally ready to share last week's meal.

As I quickly discovered when starting the One Local Summer challenge, I knew of a lot of local offerings in San Diego, but most of them were in the produce realm. So I set out excitedly during One Local Summer week #2, determined to find products that stretched beyond those that just come from the ground. After a week of exploring and investigating, I ended up with a bounty! Coincidentally, all of them happened to revolve around liquids, which in an iron chef-like way, became the theme of this week's meal.

Water
My favorite discovery of the week was also the most rewarding. Looking at my foodshed map of last week's meal, the first thing I noticed was how uneven my sources were spread out, always coming from the northeast of my neighborhood. There was nothing from the west, the dark blue mass on the map. Which is how my meal this week led me to the Pacific.

Despite bordering the ocean, I had never really explored San Diego's seafood supply. In fact, the seafood I had found in the area was always somewhat disappointing, given my the city's proximity to the sea. It doesn't cease to amaze me that a coastal town sources most of its seafood from hundreds, nay thousands of miles away. While Alaskan salmon, Thai shrimp, and Maine shellfish are always available, never had I run across a store proudly boasting fish from Southern California.

I can't remember where I heard of Point Loma Seafoods, but they have become my new favorite fish source. The crowded market, located directly next to one of the city's many harbors, is little more than one big room, with an enormous counter serving as both store and restaurant. When I arrived, (after calling ahead, and learning they had local halibut), the room was organized chaos, families and tourists hungry for a late lunch, savvy home cooks looking to tote something home for dinner. Lines formed haphazardly clamoring for the attention of the more than 20 employees moving quickly behind the counter. By the time I made it up to the front, it was close to closing time, and the pile of local halibut that had been stocked in the refrigerated case in the morning had dwindled to just one 1/2 lb. piece. Luckily, it was mine.


Proudly toting my local halibut home, I knew there was only one way to prepare it--poached in another local ingredient I had just come across this week: milk.

Milk
Hollandia Dairy in San Marcos is about 45 minute drive from my house. The trip seems a little excessive to pick up a gallon of milk, but not knowing any other local dairy farms, I was willing to take the drive last Saturday. Luckily, calling ahead, I found that the dairy delivers milk to a store a little more than a mile from my house, and hopping on my bike I had local milk in no time. After a quick swing by the farmer's market to pick up some gorgeous summer cantaloupe, the first corn pickings of the season, some plump zucchini and equally tempting basil, it was time to prepare me some dinner.


Well almost. There was one last ingredient to work into this week's meal: beer.

Beer
Vermont has its maple syrup and cheese, Georgia its peaches, and Kentucky its bourbon. If there is one thing that San Diego is putting itself on the map for, it is beer. There are over 20 breweries in the San Diego area, with well over a handful of them being consistently award-winning. The brewing culture is so intense (and likes its beer the same way) that it's created its own style: the San Diego IPA, also known as an Imperial IPA, or double IPA--a high-hops, high-alcohol beer that, while brewed across the state, is perhaps done best by San Diego breweries (I've been told this is due to the hard water); excellent examples include Alpine Pure Hoppiness and Ballast Point Sculpin IPA. So, even though I consider myself well aware of the San Diego beer offerings, I set out this week to get as close to local beer as possible.

Saturday afternoon we set out to visit two breweries in the area: Alesmith and Ballast Point, both of which are located in seemingly unsuspecting warehouse/office parks, and both of which gladly offer tastings, tours, and of course, beer for sale. Surrounded by the equipment in which the beer is made, we gladly sampled the breweries offerings, ending up with a growler of beer from each: Alesmith Summer Yulesmith and Ballast Point IPA (the Sculpin was in short supply, and sadly, not for sale). The Ballast Point brewery doubles as a home brew mart, and I also walked away with a vial of California Ale brewer's yeast, which I intended to use for cooking dinner. The yeast, produced by White Labs, is actually fermented in San Diego, making it local, and I was assured that the California Ale strain was the first produced by the company.

Armed with local yeast and local beer, and a local recipe from another local brewery, I set out to make the most daring kitchen feat in my home cooking career. Spud Buds, as they are called at the Stone World Bistro & Gardens, are essentially fried mashed potato balls, where the potatoes are cooked in beer, whipped with yeast, and dipped in batter made with a second beer. Only in a brewery restaurant, right? (And, only at Stone, the vegetable oil used to fry the spud buds is reused, converted to biodiesel to fuel the company delivery trucks) Since I still had some local potatoes left over from last week, I knew I had to try to make them. The recipe comes from Chef Raymond Scott at Stone World Bistro and Gardens and appeared July's Beer Advocate magazine.

The Spud Buds were admittedly the only component of my meal that was not 100% local, as the recipe called for flour, baking powder, and frying oil (I could have used local oil but it would have cost me upwards of $30, rather than $3, and I just couldn't justify it). Ironically, it was the only recipe that backfired on me, as I couldn't keep the oil temperature high enough and the mashed potato balls, which looked gorgeous pre-fry, disastrously fell apart. (When making, be sure to keep the oil temperature at a constant 350-360 F to avoid the same unfortunate fate.)


Recipes:

milk poached halibut and summer squash with cantaloupe & green tomato salsa

cantaloupe, green tomato & basil salsa

1 small cantaloupe
1/2 green tomato
1 bunch basil

dice cantaloupe, and green tomato into 1/4" pieces
frisee basil by taking 3-4 leaves, carefully rolling into a spiral, and carefully slicing--slices should be curled.
toss basil, cantaloupe, and green tomato in bowl; chill until ready to serve

milk poached halibut & summer squash

this recipe was adapted from several I found that used milk as a poaching liquid. The closest is from UK chef Ed Baines
others are here and here
1 tsp. olive oil
1 shallot
2 cloves garlic
2 tsp ginger
2-3 cups milk (enough to cover the fish, depending on pan width)
5-10 black peppercorns
1/2 tsp salt
1 bay leaf
1/2 lb. halibut filet
1 zucchini, halved and sliced lenthwise into 6 slices
4-5 basil leaves, diced, plus more for garnish

rub both sides of halibut with salt and pepper
heat oil in heavy bottomed skillet
saute shallot for 2 minutes, add garlic, and ginger, stir for 30 seconds or until fragrant
add milk, bay leaf and peppercorns, bring to rapid simmer
add halibut, zucchini and basil
cover and simmer for 10 minutes, until fish is almost done and zucchini is tender
remove fish and zucchini; cover with foil and tent for 10 minutes (fish will continue to cook while resting)
while fish is resting, increase heat to high and simmer milk mixture rapidly, decreasing volume by half
using a slotted spoon, spoon shallots & basil over fish, drizzle some of the reduced milk onto fish
garnish with basil, sprinkle with salt and pepper and serve warm

par-boiled corn on the cob

this is a perfect recipe for absolutely fresh early summer sweet corn, as the corn barely needs to cook. I use the same method for asparagus and it works perfectly every time.

corn on the cob
water
salt

Remove corn from husks. Submerge corn in salted water; bring to a rapid boil; turn off heat and drain corn. Let sit, covered, until serving time. Serve warm