High Heels & Frijoles

I snapped this photo and couldn’t bear to throw it out, so I drank it. With a bendy straw—just to make sure I got all the hot sauce at the bottom.

Hangover cures? I’ve heard it all: Sleep. Avoid caffeine. Drink water. Or pickle juice. Vitamin C. The Onion suggests taking a shower, in case you vomit, so you’ll have less cleaning up to do (eeewwww!). Travel + Leisure did an article on international hangover cures.  If you have foreign roots read it and find out how your great-great-great grandpa treated his delirium tremens.

Back home, you can go to a beach-front bar and have sopa levantamuertos—a seafood soup that raises the dead. If inland, head to a seedy bar, such as El Munich and order the same. Or just keep on truckin’—hair of the dog is probably the most universal cure.

I assume many of you will be toasting Benito’s first tussle with the French tonight and may be in need of a refreshment tomorrow morning. My suggestion: have a chilled michelada. You can have one tonight, too, natch—it’s the perfect warm weather drink.

MICHELADA
Makes 1
There are countless recipes for micheladas, with common ingredients being beer, lime juice, and ice. My version is below.

1 bottle ice cold beer, such as Pacífico
Ice
Kosher salt and black pepper
3 tablespoons lime juice
Worcestershire sauce
Hot sauce, such as Tabasco or my favorite, Valentina
Clamato or V8, optional

Rub the edge of a chilled glass with a lime, then dip it in salt. Fill the glass half to ¾ of the way with ice. Add the lime juice, ¼ teaspoon pepper, and Worcestershire and hot sauces to taste (and a splash of Clamato or V8 if desired) Pour in beer. ¡Salud!

When you go to a party where there’s a really random crowd, you’ll describe it to your friends as, “arroz con mango.” Because rice and mango don’t go together. Rice is eaten with beans. Or beef. Or chicken. Not mixed with mango.

Stupid girl! Just imagine all the years I wasted not eating rice with mango!  When one of my little brothers graduated college in LA, I spent a few days hanging out (OMG, Charlie, remember how furry your bathroom was?!) with him and his girlfriend Whitney. It was Whitney who introduced me to the magical combination that is rice + mango at a Thai restaurant (and the bacon-wrapped hot dogs downtown—¡muchas gracias!). It’s been true love ever since. And next time I use the term “arroz con mango” it’ll be to describe a super-fun party.

COCONUT-MANGO RICE PUDDING
Serves 6 to 8
This recipe calls for unsweetened coconut milk, not cream of coconut—don’t mix them up! The rice needs to be completely cooled before folding in the whipped cream. Spreading the warm pudding out in a large baking dish or rimmed baking sheet dramatically speeds up cooling.

6 cups water
2 cups Arborio (short-grain) rice
½ teaspoon salt
1½ cups plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1 (14.5-ounce) can unsweetened coconut milk
1 cup heavy whipping cream, chilled
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 very ripe mangos, peeled and cut into ¼-inch cubes

- Bring the water to a boil in a large saucepan. Add the rice and salt and simmer over medium heat, stirring from time to time, until the rice is tender and creamy, 15 to 20 minutes.

- Reduce the heat to low. Stir in 1½ cups of the sugar and the coconut milk. Simmer, stirring from time to time, until the rice is thickened, about 15 minutes.

-Transfer the rice pudding to a large baking dish and allow it to cool completely.

-Once the rice is cooled, whisk the remaining 2 tablespoons sugar, heavy cream, and vanilla until soft peaks form (you can do this by hand or with an electric mixer). Fold the whipped cream and mango cubes into the pudding. Serve chilled.

For a recent cooking class, my tutee wanted to make rum cake. I don’t have rum cake in my repertoire, and although there are several fortified Nicaraguan desserts and rum is like mother’s milk to the populace, I couldn’t find one in the infamous Nica Joy of Cooking, Doña Angélica. My mom suggested I use our household orange bundt as a base and replace some of the milk with rum. A sensible suggestion, but I Googled “rum cake” anyway. Boxed yellow cake + rum. Not quite the avenue I’d planned on taking.

But then, an actual recipe claiming to be some well-known rum company’s original TOP SECRET recipe…

I like secrets! And I also like that this recipe had 3 sticks of butter plus 1 cup of heavy cream.

I added a few spices to the recipe and, deciding that ¾ cup rum in the cake was stingy (mother’s milk, remember?), made a buttery-burnt sugar-orange-rum glaze. This cake is incredibly moist and stays that way for about a week.  Love it. Love it. Love it.

RUM CAKE with BUTTERED RUM GLAZE

I recommend a 7 or 12-year-old Flor de Caña (Nicaraguan rum) for this cake. If you can’t get Flor, substitute with dark rum of your liking. For an extra burst of orange flavor, process the sugar and orange zest in a food processor for about 1 minute.

Prepare the glaze while the cake is in the oven. It’s best to use a stainless steel saucepan for this recipe—a dark pan will make it difficult to determine the caramel’s color and progress. Avoid a shallow pan as there will be sputtering.

¡Atención! The base of this glaze is caramel, just like the one  on flan.  Please be careful when working with hot sugar—it’s like liquid napalm and you should never be tempted to stick your finger in the pot to have a taste. Unless you’re looking to erase the friction ridges on your fingertips.

For the Cake
3 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon ground ginger
¼ teaspoon ground allspice
¼ teaspoon salt
1 cup heavy cream
¾ cup dark rum
1½ cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1½ cups sugar
1 tablespoon grated orange zest
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 large eggs plus 1 large egg yolk

- Position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat it to 350˚F. Butter and flour (or spray with Pam for Baking) a Bundt pan.

- Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, allspice, and salt; set aside. Combine the cream and rum in a liquid measuring cup; set aside.

- With an electric mixer (use the paddle attachment if using standing mixer) on medium speed, beat the butter, sugar, and zest until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the egg yolk and beat until fully incorporated. Add the whole eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the vanilla and reduce speed to low. Add the flour mixture in 3 additions, alternating with the cream-rum mixture, stopping once or twice to scrape the sides and bottom of bowl with a rubber spatula. Mix until smooth, about 1 minute.

- Pour the batter into the prepared Bundt pan and bake until a toothpick inserted into the cake comes out clean, about 1 hour.

For the Buttered Rum Glaze
½ cup dark rum
½ cup orange juice (use the zested orange from the cake recipe)
1 cup sugar
¼ cup water
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
¼ teaspoon salt

- Combine the rum and orange juice in a liquid measuring cup; set aside.

- Place the sugar and water in a heavy bottomed, stainless steel, medium saucepan. Bring the mixture to a boil over medium-high heat and cook, gently swirling the saucepan from time to time, until the sugar turns deep amber and begins to smoke, 10 to 12 minutes.

- Immediately remove the saucepan from heat, and slowly and carefully pour in the rum-orange juice mixture. The mixture will sputter quite violently—don’t move the saucepan or stir the mixture. Once the sputtering has subsided, return the saucepan to medium heat, and with a heat-proof rubber spatula, stir until smooth, about 3 minutes. Stir in the butter and salt. Reserve ½ cup of the glaze.

- Once the cake is out of the oven, poke it all over with a metal or wooden skewer. Pour the remaining glaze over the cake and allow it to sit in the pan for 20 minutes before turning out onto a cooling rack.  Brush the cake with the reserved glaze and cool completely before serving.

P.S. This is how good this cake is:

Sometimes all you need is a home cooked meal, one that reminds you of mom making supper when you came home at the end of the school day. Nothing special or out of the ordinary, just something that says, “I’m home and the day is done.”  A Latin American friend and I were talking about how the fanciest meal at a restaurant couldn’t compare with a plate of simple food—and for us that meant anything that could be served with a heaping pile of rice and beans.

Carne chorizada is one of those unpretentious recipes that makes it into the dinner rotation at least twice a month at my house. It never gets boring, despite its brief and humble list of ingredients.

CARNE CHORIZADA
Serves 4 to 6
This recipe can also be made with meatloaf mix or a combination of ground beef and ground pork. If you can’t find fresh baby corn, substitute with 1½ frozen corn kernels. Achiote paste is a common ingredient in Nicaraguan dishes and can be found in Latin American supermarkets or the international aisle of the supermarket. It’s primarily a colorant, so if you can’t find it, don’t worry and proceed with the recipe.

2 pounds 85% lean ground beef
Salt and pepper
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon yellow mustard
1 tablespoon vegetable or corn oil
1 onion, finely chopped
3 small red potatoes, peeled and cut into ¼” dice (about 1½ cups)
2 medium carrots, peeled and cut into ¼” dice (about 1 cup)
8 ears baby corn, cut into crosswise into ¼” rounds
1 tablespoon achiote paste (optional)
3 tablespoons cider vinegar

- Using your hands, combine the beef with 1 teaspoon salt, ½ teaspoon pepper, Worcestershire sauce, and mustard in a large bowl.

- Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat until shimmering. Add the onion and cook until it’s softened and translucent, about 5 minutes.  Add the achiote paste (if using) and cook, stirring with a wooden cooking spoon, until the onions are evenly coated, about 1 minute.

- Increase heat to medium-high; add the beef, and cook, continuously stirring and breaking up any lumps, until the beef is no longer pink and most of the released juices have been absorbed. Stir in the vinegar, potatoes, carrots, and baby corn. Cover, reduce heat to low, and simmer until the vegetables are tender, about 15 minutes.  Remove skillet from heat, season to taste with salt and pepper and serve with white rice, black or red kidney beans, corn tortillas, and/or fried plantains.

Iglesia Guadalupe in Granada, the city where I was born.

Though the Aeropuerto Internacional Augusto César Sandino has boasted jet bridges for several years now, I still expect to descend directly from the airplane onto the tarmac. In the 80s, excited family and friends would crowd together mosh pit-style on a terrace that overlooked the landing strip, everyone calling out and waving signs like crazed fans awaiting a celebrity’s arrival on the red carpet. But they were just waiting for their exiled own, coming home for the holidays.

Granada by coche, a horse-drawn carriage.

My trips to Nicaragua are bittersweet, especially during Christmas. My passport still marks me a citizen, and I do call it “home” whenever I refer to it, but Nicaragua hasn’t really been home for a very long time. I’ve moved on, but that first sighting of dusty olive green land from the scratched acrylic windows makes my heart cramp. Memories of trips when my family lived in the U.S. and Mexico during the 80s jumble with those from college breaks and the more recent perfunctory visits.  The childhood jaunts were all fun and adventure; I was mesmerized by ox-pulled carts on the main roads and street vendors pouring sodas into plastic bags—mini-udders that dispensed Coca-Cola. But even in the haze of little-kid wonderment, I knew everything was broken, and it made me deeply sad. It’s sadder today. But, there are uniquely beautiful and wow-worthy people and scenes to be found, and I appreciate them all the more.

San Juan del Sur, the beach town I grew up going to—and now a must-see on tourists’ itineraries.

The new spear fishing technique. We’d gone to the dock and  carefully packed our catch of the day in a large cooler when we spotted these kids. They were much hipper than us.

Red snapper, the catch of the day: $2/lb.

Lunch at El Timón, an establishment in San Juan’s “pueblo.” Fresh-caught fish (snapper, in this photo) is coated in pinol, a corn and cacao-based meal, then fried and served with a tomato and onion sauce (salsa criolla), white rice, and plantain tostones.

To market, to market…

Ripe papayas and watermelons.

Melocotones y limones (star fruit and limes).La asunción de la Santísima Vírgen María. The Virgin Mary is a religious and cultural symbol. This image of the assumption is found everywhere, even in markets.

“La quema del viejo” — a local tradition.  These life-size dolls sit on people’s stoops or front yards, awaiting the new year. “El viejo” is stuffed with gunpowder and will be set on fire at midnight to blow out the old year and ring in the new.

Sunset over the bay of Nacascolo.

Huitlacoche or (equally tricky to pronounce) cuitlacoche is a black, bulbous fungus that grows on corn. It looks revolting and distantly related to The Blob, so I can only assume that some poor Aztec thousands of years ago must have been either starving or being subjected to punishment when he first tried it. Famished daredevil or criminal, whoever was the first to eat it made a wonderful discovery. Sometimes referred to as smut, huitlacoche has also picked up a swankier moniker: corn truffle. Smut or truffle, huitlacoche is earthy, velvety, and intensely rich. In Mexico it’s sold canned at the grocery store (often with chiles and onions), but lucky for you, you don’t have to book a ticket to the D.F. to get it — simply order a few tins on Amazon with your next book or DVD purchase. It’s surprising, unexpected, and luxe layered in a quesadilla, stuffed into fried squash blossoms, wrapped inside crêpes, or tossed with pasta.

LINGUINE with HUITLACOCHE-MUSHROOM SAUCE
Serves 2

8 ounces linguine or spaghetti
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 onion, finely chopped
Salt and pepper
1 (10-ounce) box cremini or button mushrooms, cleaned and thinly sliced
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 (215 gram / 7.5 ounce) can huitlacoche, chopped
½ cup heavy cream
¼ cup grated Parmesan or Asiago cheese
4 scallions, thinly sliced

- Bring 4 quarts water to boil in a large pot.

- Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add onion and ½ teaspoon pepper and cook until onion begins to soften, about 3 minutes.  Add mushrooms and sauté until golden brown, 6 to 8 minutes. Stir in garlic and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute,

- Stir in the huitlacoche and cream and simmer over medium heat until slightly thickened, about 5 minutes. Stir in cheese and season with salt and pepper.

- Add 1 tablespoon salt and pasta to boiling water and cook until al dente. Reserve ¼ cup pasta cooking water, drain pasta, and add to huitlacoche sauce in skillet. Toss to coat, adding reserved pasta water 1 tablespoon at a time if necessary. Serve in bowls and top with sliced scallions.

Arroz con pollo means chicken-and-rice, but the colorful flavors and ingredients of the popular Nicaraguan dish are lost in this very literal translation.  Also called arroz a la valenciana (probably a nod to Spanish colonizers and paella) arroz con pollo is a mixture of the title ingredients, plus ham, sausage, pimento-stuffed olives, capers, peas, carrots, and bell peppers. Topped with a generous grating of Parmesan cheese and often served with buttered toast, it’s one of my favorite things to eat; maybe it’ll become one of yours, too.

ARROZ con POLLO or ARROZ a la VALENCIANA
Serves 8 to 12
This is a somewhat involved recipe, but it makes piles of food; great for a big family, a casual dinner party, or days’ worth of leftovers. The recipe can be easily cut in half if the yield seems excessive.

Some shortcuts: Rather than cooking carrots with rice, add 2 cups of frozen peas-and-carrots to the mixture.  Buy a rotisserie chicken and low-sodium chicken broth instead of poaching your own fresh chicken pieces.

For the Chicken:
4 pounds bone-in, skin-on chicken pieces or 1 4- to 5-pound chicken, cut into 8 pieces
Salt
1 large onion, peeled and cut into wedges
1 green bell pepper, seeded and quartered
4 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
2 teaspoons black peppercorns

- Place chicken pieces in large soup pot or Dutch oven. Season with salt and cover with cold water (chicken should be submerged 2 inches). Add onion, bell pepper, garlic, and peppercorns. Bring to a boil over high heat, then immediately reduce heat to medium-low and simmer until chicken is cooked through (temperature should read 160˚F), 30 to 35 minutes.

- Transfer chicken to large bowl. When it’s cool enough to handle, remove and discard the skin and bones and shred the chicken into bite-sized pieces. The chicken may be poached one day in advance: To store, add 3 cups broth to shredded chicken, cool to room temperature, cover with plastic, and refrigerate.

- Strain broth and reserve. Discard solids.

For the Rice:
2 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 teaspoons salt
2 cups long-grain white rice
2 medium carrots, peeled and cut into small dice
2 tablespoons tomato paste
4 cups chicken broth

- Melt 2 tablespoons butter in a medium saucepan.  Add the onion and salt and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in rice, carrots, and tomato paste. Add broth and bring to a boil. Continue to boil until most of the liquid has evaporated and you can see small bubbles on the surface (see How to Make Rice).  Reduce heat to lowest setting, cover, and cook for 15 minutes. Fluff rice with chopsticks or fork and remove from heat.

For the Arroz con Pollo:
2 tablespoons butter
8 ounces Lil’ Smokies or Kielbasa sausage, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 green or red bell pepper, seeded and finely chopped
2 tablespoons tomato paste
¼ cup ketchup
Shredded chicken (see above)
¼ pound deli ham, chopped
1/3 cup capers, drained
1/3 cup pimento-stuffed olives, sliced
1 ½ cups frozen peas
Cooked rice (see above)

- Melt butter in a large skillet or Dutch oven. Add sausage and sauté until browned, about 5 minutes. Transfer to plate.

- Add onion and bell pepper to now empty skillet and cook until softened, about 8 minutes. Add tomato paste, chicken, ham, capers, olives, peas, and rice, stirring to combine thoroughly. Cook, stirring occasionally, to allow flavors to meld, 10 to 15 minutes.  Season to taste with salt.

- Serve with grated Parmesan cheese and white buttered toast.

Pie crust can be daunting.  I know numerous cooks, professional and amateur, that don’t relish the thought of making it. I’ve always found making pies a soothing activity, but did have a lousy, nightmarish episode with crusts recently that almost made me break out in hives. Anyway. I won’t make you break out into hives or develop an eye twitch. This pie crust lesson is tedious and longer than the recipes I’ve been posting lately, but holiday season is fast approaching and maybe you’d like to try your hand at it, get some practice, so you can bring something “wow” to your family dinner this year.

HOW TO MAKE PIE CRUST

I rarely cook or provide recipes using the metric system, however, when it comes to pie crust I dutifully unwrap my scale and press the “grams” button. I’ve translated the measurements to cups and tablespoons, but I do prefer the certainty of the scale.

The following recipe is applicable only to the pastel de piña (pineappple pie) that follows. I read and reread my mother’s recipe for the Nicaraguan bakery staple, and unconventional as it is, it’s traditional. Normally, a tart or single crust pie such as lemon meringue is made by “blind” baking the crust: the tart mold or pie plate is lined with pie dough which is pricked to prevent puffing, lined with parchment or foil, weighed down, and baked prior to being cooled and filled. A double-crust pie like apple pie is filled raw: the pie plate is lined with pie dough, filled, and topped with a second, vented crust or with a latticed top, then baked.

Pastel de piña uses an unorthodox combination of the two methods: the crust is blind baked, filled, then topped with a lattice and returned to the oven.

PÂTE BRISÉE with EGG
Makes a double-crust for an 8- to 9-inch pie
Don’t skip any of the resting or chilling periods in the recipe, unless you want a shriveled, shrunken, or tough crust!

400 grams (2 ¾ cups) all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
200 grams (15 tablespoons) chilled butter cut into ¼ inch pieces
2 eggs, lightly beaten
Ice water, as needed

1 egg yolk
2 teaspoons heavy cream
Pinch of salt

- Combine the flour and salt on a clean, dry work surface. With a bench scraper, cut in the butter until it resembles wet sand. Alternatively, combine the flour and salt in the bowl of a food processor and add the butter. Pulse until the mixture resembles wet sand, then transfer mixture to a clean, dry work surface.

- Form  a well in the center of the flour mixture and pour in the eggs plus 1 tablespoon ice water.

- Working quickly, use the bench scraper to cut in the eggs and water.  If the mixture appears very dry and crumbly, add water, 1 teaspoon at a time, until the mixture is cohesive but not overly wet.

- Bring the dough together with your hands. Pinch off pieces of dough (about 2-inch pieces) and with the heel of your hand extend on the surface. This method, called fraisage, ensures that the butter is evenly distributed in the dough. Shape the dough into a ball and cut it in half. Shape each half into a disc and wrap in plastic. Refrigerate for 30 minutes.

- On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out to about 10 inches in diameter. Gently fold the dough into quarters and transfer to an 8-inch tart shell.  Unfold the dough and press it into the shell. Trim off excess overhang and lightly prick all over with fork.  Transfer the lined shell to refrigerator and chill 30 minutes, then, freeze for 20 minutes.  Preheat the oven to 375˚F.

- Roll out the second dough disc on a piece of lightly floured parchment paper to 10 inches in diameter and cut into 8 1-inch-thick strips. Slide parchment and strips onto a baking sheet or jelly board and refrigerate.

- Line the chilled shell with foil or parchment paper (not wax paper!) and fill with pie weights or dry beans. Bake until the dough looks opaque, 20 to 25 minutes.

- Fill the pie shell with the pineapple mixture (see recipe below).  Following photo 13, lay out four dough strips across the pie at about 1-inch intervals. Then, starting in the middle, lay one additional strip perpendicular to the original strips. Carefully weave the strips into each other, following figures 13 to 16.

- Beat the egg yolk, cream, and salt in small bowl. With a pastry brush, paint the egg mixture over the lattice top. Bake until golden, 30 to 40 minutes. Transfer pie to wire rack and cool to room temperature, 1 to 2 hours.

PASTEL DE PIÑA
Serves 6 to 8

1 large, ripe pineapple
½ cup water
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1 ½ cups sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 1 inch pieces

To prepare the pineapple:

- With a chef’s knife, cut off the crown of leaves and about 1 inch from the base. Stand the pineapple upright and cut the prickly exterior off. If there are any “eyes” left, trim them.

- Lay the pineapple on its side and cut the flesh off; discard the core. Cut the pineapple into ½-inch pieces.

- Transfer half of the pineapple chunks to a food processor and pulse until pineapple is a thick puree.

- Transfer to a large pot.

- Whisk cornstarch and water together in a small bowl and stir into pineapple. Stir in the sugar and salt.

- Bring the pineapple mixture to a boil and simmer, stirring occasionally, until deep golden and jam-like, 45 to 60 minutes.  Off heat, stir in butter.

- Fill the blind baked crust and continue to recipe above.

Arroz aguado (watery or soft rice) is a dish I was none too happy to eat when I was little. Its mushy texture and bland flavors were well suited to the flu-ish and hungover, but not to people whose tastebuds were unimpaired and stomachs weren’t queasy. Arroz aguado is basically chicken soup to which rice has been added and cooked until its blown out and soft. The harsh winds and chilly temperatures of early spring have made me reconsider this recipe, however, and it is now a very welcome addition to the table.

ARROZ AGUADO

1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 onion, chopped
3 celery stalks, thinly sliced
3 carrots, cut into ½”-thick slices
2 whole canned plum tomatoes, sliced into ½”-thick slices, plus 2 tablespoons juice
4 cloves garlic, smashed
Salt and pepper
2 bone-in, skin-on split chicken breasts, cut in half crosswise
4 bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs (or 4 drumsticks)
4 cups chicken broth
3 cups water
1 cup long-grain white rice
2 sprigs fresh mint
3 medium red potatoes, scrubbed and cut into 1” cubes
1 medium zucchini, quartered lengthwise and cut into ½”-thick slices

Bright garnishes like mint, cilantro, and lime juice will brighten the arroz aguado — top each bowl or pass at the table.

¼ cup fresh mint, chopped
¼ cup fresh cilantro, chopped
2 limes, cut into wedges
1 ripe avocado, cut into ¼” cubes
Pickled jalapeño chiles

-Heat oil in large Dutch oven or soup pot over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add onion, celery, carrots, tomatoes and juice, garlic, and 1 teaspoon salt and cook, stirring, until onion is softened, 5 to 7 minutes.

-Season chicken with salt and pepper and add to pot. Add broth, water, rice, and sprigs of fresh mint; stir and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low and maintain a low simmer, skimming surface from time to time, and cook until chicken is cooked through, about 45 minutes.With tongs, remove chicken and place in bowl. Remove and discard mint sprigs.

-Stir potatoes and zucchini into soup and cook until tender, about 15 minutes.

-Meanwhile, using 2 forks, carefully remove and discard skin and bones. Shred chicken and return to pot. Adjust seasonings with salt and pepper.

-Serve in bowls and garnish with mint and cilantro. Serve with limes, avocado, and jalapeños.

Note: When reheating leftovers, add a bit more broth to the stew as the rice may become blown out as it rests.

Sinking your teeth into the sweet, tender crunchiness of a fresh ear of corn is one of summer’s indubitable pleasures, the butter-slathered kernels yielding to your eager bite, the salt crusting your upper lip. For many of us, that first bite acts as a time machine, transporting us to the county fair or the Sunday afternoon backyard barbecue of our youth. My corny time machine takes me to Reino Aventura, a Six Flags-like amusement park in Mexico City where I had a Corn on the Cob, The Extreme Version: grilled corn generously schmeared with mayonnaise, sprinkled with grated cheese and chile piquín, and finished off with a squirt of lime.

But, regardless of whether it’s consumed in English or en español, nibblers will agree that eating corn on the cob has some unattractive side effects; bits and pieces of kernel stubbornly fix themselves in our gums, between our canines, incisors, and molars, making our faces contort and twitch as we not-so-discreetly attempt to dislodge them with the tips of our tongues. Even in the comfort and privacy of my own home, I can’t stand the struggle.

So, the other day when I was craving Mexican street corn, I decided I’d deconstruct the local treat and serve it forth in a bowl. It would be a much more Emily Post-ish eating experience, besides which I would be able to get larger mouthfuls (not so Emily Post, in the end).

Though versions abound, this is my recipe for Mexican Corn Off the Cob. Serve it as a side dish to grilled steak, fajitas, or as a topping for quesadillas.

MEXICAN CORN OFF THE COB
Serves 2 to 3

6 ears of corn, husks and silk removed (yields approx. 3 cups of kernels)
2 tsps. corn oil
2 to 3 TBSP. mayonnaise
Juice of one lime
chile piquín or chile de árbol flakes, to taste
1/3 C. grated cotija cheese

-With a small, sharp paring knife, scrape the kernels off the cob. Work in a large shallow bowl so you can catch the kernels as well as any milk that may leak out.

-Heat oil in a large skillet over high heat until shimmering. Add kernels and toss to coat in oil. Either stir or shake kernels constantly until they are nicely toasted – I prefer mine a bit charred.

-Pour corn into a serving bowl and season with salt and pepper. Stir in mayonnaise, then sprinkle with chile and cheese. Drizzle with lemon juice and serve.

“De-cobbing.”