Listen as the pages of the magazine come to life in the Storytellers podcast showcasing the voices of six Our State writers. Each podcast episode features a writer reading their column aloud, allowing each distinct voice to shine. Click below to listen to Sheri read her column aloud.
Lanky stalks of sweet corn pop up in the garden like the hands of eager students ready to answer the question, “What do we want for supper?” Pick me! Pick me! North Carolina’s sweet corn season starts on the eastern side of the state and moves westward, as sure as the bright golden sun moving across the sky. Peak season coincides with the height of summer, when it feels like the sole difference between the blistering air required to ripen corn and the boiling water needed to cook it is that one of them is inside a pot. We should heed local sweet corn’s clarion call with gleeful urgency, eating all we can while the eatin’ is good. So, so good.
Sweet corn is distinct from field corn, and it’s rarer than we might suspect. Of the 90ish million acres of corn planted in the country each year, sweet corn makes up less than 1 percent of the crop. Hybridized sweet corn develops up to twice as much natural sugar as its traditional counterpart. Even the names of North Carolina’s best-loved varieties sound good enough to eat for dessert: Ambrosia, Kandy Korn, Bodacious, Passion, Obsession, and Honey ‘N Pearl.
Some folks believe that you can tell a lot about a person by how they eat corn on the cob: straight across in rows, like reading lines of text; rotating around the cob as though unspooling the kernels; or random gnawing. Were I to speculate on what corn would prefer, I’d suggest a method as tidy and exacting as it is. A typical ear of sweet corn has an even number of rows that add up to 400 to 800 kernels, each one the result of a pollinated strand of corn silk, a remarkable arrangement requiring impeccable timing. I admire how, in the field, corn toes the line in similarly organized rows, exhibiting good posture, as though setting an example for the rest of summer’s crops.
photograph by Tim Robison
When I was little, I’d head into the family garden around mid-July to check on the corn’s progress. These days, I monitor farmers markets. When the first local corn is ready, I feel like running back into the kitchen with an ear held high over my head in victory, not unlike the torchbearer ready to signal the start of the Summer Olympics.
I enjoy excellent corn recipes: I’m open to grilled corn and roasted ears, and I swoon over corn so sweet and tender that I can eat it after a mere whisper of cooking, if not raw. And corn on the cob always makes me feel like a kid again. How I loved those little handles stabbed into each end of the cob, the better to roll my ear of corn over a hunk of butter made gritty with salt. During that short season, we ate it with ravenous joy daily. We also canned countless quarts to tide us over through the rest of the year. Only something as delicious as garden-fresh corn warranted laboring over boiling water baths during the dog days of summer. I can still see my grandmother zipping kernels off hundreds of cobs with the blade of a black-handled paring knife worn as thin as a scythe — and then squeezing those cobs to release every delicious drop of sweet corn milk. She’d pull her blue Rambler station wagon under the shade trees on the garden’s edge and use the lowered tailgate as a workbench to take advantage of any cooling breezes.
Maybe sweet corn is Mother Nature’s way of saying to us, Sorry about the awful summer swelter, but looky here, I fixed you something good. So, so good.
photograph by Tim Robison
This recipe deserves the freshest corn available. Thick corn “milk” should flow from the kernels. Be sure to scrape the cobs to remove every drop.
Makes 1½ quarts.
4 ears fresh corn on the cob
2 cups heavy cream
1 cup whole milk
½ teaspoon kosher salt, divided
¾ cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar, divided
6 large egg yolks
1 ounce full-fat cream cheese
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Cut kernels off the cobs and add them to a medium-size saucepan; there should be about 2 cups of kernels. Using a spoon, scrape cobs to remove as much liquid as possible into the pan. Halve cobs crosswise and set aside.
Pour cream and milk into pan. Add ¼ teaspoon salt and 2 tablespoons granulated sugar. Bring just to a simmer over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally. Remove pan from heat and add reserved cobs to the mixture. Cover and let stand at room temperature for 2 hours.
Remove cobs and scrape remaining liquid off the cobs into the pot; discard them. Strain corn mixture through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl, pressing firmly on the solids to remove as much liquid as possible. Discard corn. Return strained liquid to the saucepan.
In a large bowl, whisk together eggs yolks and remaining sugar.
Warm the corn liquid over medium heat until it begins to steam and form small bubbles around the edge. Add about half of the warm liquid into the egg mixture in a slow, steady stream, whisking continuously until combined. Return mixture to saucepan and whisk until smooth. Add cream cheese and remaining ¼ teaspoon salt. Cook over medium heat, stirring slowly and continuously with a spatula until the custard thickens enough to coat the spatula, 8 to 10 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla.
Pour custard into a clean bowl. Create an ice bath by filling a larger bowl with ice, water, and a big pinch of salt. Sit the custard bowl in the ice bath and let stand until the custard cools, stirring occasionally.
Cover the cooled custard tightly. Refrigerate until deeply chilled (40°), at least 4 hours and up to overnight.
Pour the chilled custard into an ice cream maker and process according to manufacturers’ directions. When frozen, the custard will have the consistency of soft serve. For firmer ice cream, transfer it into a container with a tight-fitting lid and freeze overnight.
Serve with:
Caramel or butterscotch sauce, for drizzling
Caramel corn, for sprinkling
— Sheri Castle
photograph by Matt Hulsman
Andrea Ginsberg took over The Mad Popper in 2011 and began creating flavors that reflect her community. Today, she sells specialty mixes like “Q-Corn” BarBQ (above), a blend with hints of smoke and spice. And come baseball season, Bulls fans grab bags filled with blue-tinted popcorn.
105 West NC Highway 54, Suite 259
themadpopper.com
After almost 40 years in the snacking business, Yadkin Valley Popcorn still sources kernels from its own Shallowford Farms. Customer favorites include caramel, kettle, and a buttered blend that’s as golden as the sun over the corn fields.
(336) 463-5938
yadkinvalleypopcorn.com
photograph by Stacey Van Berkel
Poppy Hand-Crafted Popcorn has been dreaming up delicious flavors like Cinnamon Bourbon Pecan and Pimento Cheese in Asheville since 2014. Last December, Poppy re-released its cheddar and caramel Asheville Mix, donating a portion of proceeds to Optimist Ventures’ fund, which supports Asheville entrepreneurs following Hurricane Helene.
— Eliza Benbow
For decades, a remote piece of Currituck County has been a respite for wildlife. Now under the protection of conservationists, this land, the waters surrounding it, and the skies above will remain a constant in our coastal circle of life.
On North Carolina’s coast, boardwalks wind alongside our sounds, rivers, and beaches, reminding us that the journey is often just as delightful as the destination.
From Wanchese to Duck, these landmark businesses and the families who run them connect consumers with the daily catch.
As the sun sets at Grandfather Mountain, fireflies put on a magnificent show — for those willing to stop and pay attention.
