Skillet Corn Cakes, Buon Giorno and Buona Sera

Hi.  I’m still here. 

I survived the move to the North End.  In a terrible cliché, I am currently drinking an Italian red and eating rolled up slices of mortadella.  Dave and I don’t have the luxury yet of sitting on a couch or at a dining table, but we do have a nice little impromptu bar cart and are surrounded by neighborhood joints that aim to feed.

What I’m trying to say is we are a work-in-progress.  In kind, I have yet to prepare a full dinner in my kitchen.  Not to suggest these corn cakes aren’t a proper meal.  It’s just that you can only plop an egg on something so many times before 'breakfast-as-dinner' stops being cute.  (You can see I’ve now resorted to Italian cold cuts and vino.)

But about these corn cakes.  They are toasty and nutty, perfect companions for melty cheese or a drippy yolk.  I cooked them in a cast-iron skillet, as I now have an electric stovetop that behaves as though heating something uniformly would be an insult.

The cakes were bookmarked from a recent Lebovitz post and are here serving as a prostitute for late summer produce.  They are quick to make; universal in appeal; and flexible for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. 

Eat them hot, with or without Italian bologna.  

Skillet Corn Cakes

Adapted from David Lebovitz, originally by way of Chez Panisse Vegetables

Ingredients:

1½ cups corn flour or finely ground cornmeal

1½ tsp baking powder

¾ tsp salt

¼ tsp chili powder

4 tbsp unsalted butter, plus more for cooking the cakes

1 tbsp honey

½ cup coconut milk

2 eggs, separated

1 egg white

2 large ears of corn (about 2 cups kernels), husks removed and kernels sliced off

¼ cup roughly chopped cilantro 

1 jalapeño, finely diced

Directions:

In a large bowl, whisk together the corn flour (or cornmeal), baking powder, salt, and chili powder.  Make a well in the center of the mixture; set aside.  In a small saucepan, heat the butter, honey, coconut milk, and ½ cup water; when the butter is melted, set aside to cool slightly.

Place the two egg yolks in the center of the corn well.  In a separate bowl, by hand—or using an electric mixer—beat the three egg whites until stiff (they should hold their shape when the whisk or whisk attachment is lifted).

To the corn mixture, add the coconut honey liquid, corn kernels, cilantro, and jalapeño; stir to combine.  Fold in the egg whites until fully incorporated.

Heat some butter (about a tablespoon) in a cast-iron skillet or sauté pan.  Once the pan is hot, spoon ¼ to 1/3 cup of batter in a mound in the pan; repeat with as many spoons of batter as can comfortably fit in the pan (for my pan this was three).  Let the cakes cook until they are browned on the bottom and their edges start to bubble; flip until lightly browned on the other side (about another minute).  Repeat until the remaining batter is used up.

Serve hot or reheat in a skillet or oven.

Makes about a dozen.

Notes:

-These happen to be both gluten-free (check your spices if you have celiac disease) and milk (but not dairy) free.

-I used cornmeal from Misty Brook Farm.  (It’s wonderful.  However, make sure if you are using cornmeal it’s very finely ground (it should be almost like a powder).

-Omit the jalapeño (or remove its seeds) for less heat.

Early Riser Polenta, For Us Humans

Very scary things have been said about polenta.  It’s pasty.  It needs to be fussed over or it’s all lumps and bumps. It burns if you so much as glance at it wrong.     

But here is the secret.  It has to be stirred.  And this can’t be hurried.  That’s it.

It knows what it needs.  And what it needs is an hour to be ready.  So do not rush it, thankyouverymuch.  Making polenta is mediation by way of cornmeal. 

I felt this needed to be discussed for a few reasons.  One.  Because I had an early dinner with my brother a few weeks ago and the man revealed he has yet to latch on to the right polenta recipe.  Since he owns my great grandmother’s hand crank cavatelli maker—and has used it—I can assure you his polenta void is not for lack of wont.

Two.  Because at said dinner at a trendy-new-restaurant-which shall-remain-nameless, we had a side of farro that was barely passable.  Sad and pale and bored.  (Like a New Englander trudging through March April.) And this should simply not be the case for Italian grains that require so little to taste delicious.

Three.  Because I recently visited Misty Brook Farm and have fallen for their Early Riser cornmeal, which they also feed to their pigs and chickens.  And I hope this balances out some of the implied elitism when I say it’s organic, meaning it’s a non-GMO (a rarity), and from a local farm.  Any food that’s fed to both farm animals and humans can’t be too highbrow.  In fact, I hope we can come to live in a world where people say, “If it’s good enough for the pigs, it’s good enough for me.” 

During my research, I also stumbled across this quote from an online garden supply store about using Early Riser: “Chickens will produce eggs with deep golden yolks, cows love it, and it makes a high quality cornmeal for us humans as well.”  Now, cows aren't technically supposed to eat corn.  But that aside, it’s ground so fine and delicate that it makes the creamiest polenta known to man.

But you still have to stir it. 

So do your dishes while it gently bubbles on the stovetop.  Or, better yet, grab a book and a bottle of wine and head to the kitchen.  This is precisely how I became well acquainted with both Nigel Slater’s recipe for root vegetable korma and a fantastic Umbrian Sunday dinner red from The Wine Bottega.  (Both of which I highly recommend.) You don’t have to be chained to the range, but you really don’t want to stray too far for too long.

You see.  The key is stirring, and patience.  This makes a high quality polenta for us humans, as well.

Early Riser Polenta

Ingredients:

5 cups water

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus additional, to taste

1 cup cornmeal

2 tablespoons (1 ounce) butter

1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Pinch of crushed red pepper

Black pepper, to taste

Instructions:

In a 2-quart saucepan, bring the water to a simmer.  Add the salt and then slowly whisk in the cornmeal.  Continue to whisk until any lumps dissolve.

Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook the cornmeal for about an hour, stirring regularly to prevent any lumps from forming.  The cornmeal will bubble occasionally; if it starts to sputter and splatter, turn down the heat.

The polenta is done when it is creamy and has reduced roughly by half.  (It should not taste floury or raw, if it does, cook it longer.)  Stir in the butter, cheese, and crushed red pepper.  Taste and adjust for seasoning.  Serve hot.

Makes about 3 cups

Notes:

-I’ve made the recipe with standard yellow polenta (typically medium or coarse ground cornmeal), as well. (You can find Early Riser at Misty Brook Farm here.)

-If your polenta is looking too dry, add in a drizzle of water.

-For more on the problems plaguing corn, and about Early Riser, see here.

-The vegetable korma is a great way to use up any winter roots you may still have lying around.  (The recipe is from Tender.)