Tuesday, 21 January 2020

Roberto Baggio, Peter Handke e il calcio di rigore





Bravi gli azzurri (anche in maglia verde): battono 2-0 la Grecia all’Olimpico (Jorginho su rigore, Bernardeschi) e si qualificano, con tre turni d’anticipo, all’Europeo 2020. Una marcia trionfale, 21 punti e, soprattutto, un futuro luminoso spalancato davanti. Merito del lavoro, delle scelte, della competenza di Roberto Mancini. E che bellezza il ritorno di Luca Vialli in nazionale!

E a proposito di azzurri, ieri è ricomparso sulla scena (al bellissimo Festival dello Sport di Trento) anche il riservatissimo Roberto Baggio, fuoriclasse sempre e per sempre. E lo ha fatto a modo suo, con parole giuste e un oceano di emozioni. Soprattutto nel ricordare quel tiro dagli undici metri spedito sopra la traversa 25 anni fa, nella finale con il Brasile al mundial americano, allo stadio “Rose Bowl”, di Pasadena. Il miglior calciatore della competizione, con il centravanti brasileiro Romario, diventava, in quel preciso istante, tra la gioia e l’incredulità del portiere verdeoro Cláudio Taffarel, in ginocchio a ringraziare tutti i santi, il nostro Achille. Fu l’errore decisivo di un match deludente, senza passioni. 0-0 i tempi regolamentari, 0-0 i supplementari, poi l’epica dei penalty, sotto quell’assurdo caldo californiano. Tutto terminò, così: con lacrime di Roberto, consolato da Gigi Riva, il breriano “Rombo di Tuono”.

Il Divin Codino ha rivelato che, prima di addormentarsi, pensa spesso a quella conclusione fallita. È la sua ossessione, il suo rimpianto, il suo tormento. Mai aveva calciato un rigore alto: proprio lui, uno dei più lucenti artisti del football internazionale, un numero 10 dotato di classe e fantasia; e una persona straordinariamente perbene. Pasadena non cancellerà mai le mille e mille prodezze di questo formidabile asso della pelota.
 Baggio ci ha svelato, dunque, l’angoscia del dopo rigore, quando la possibile gioia si trasforma in incubo. Un incubo che dura all’infinito.
Peter Handke, invece, contestatissimo Premio Nobel per la Letteratura 2019, raccontò l’angoscia del portiere prima di un penalty (“Prima del calcio di rigore”, traduzione di Bruna Bianchi, Feltrinelli, prima edizione novembre 1971). Il protagonista di questo palpitante giallo-psicologico è l’elettroinstallatore Joseph Bloch, “che era stato un portiere di qualche fama”. Bloch uccide una donna e poi comincia a vagare, allucinato e smarrito, per Vienna. Fino a fermarsi a un campo di football, prima di un rigore.
“Il portiere si domanda in quale angolo l’altro tirerà,” disse Bloch. “Se conosce il tiratore, sa quale angolo si sceglie di solito. Può darsi però che anche l’incaricato del calcio di rigore calcoli che il portiere ci pensa. Quindi il portiere pensa che, oggi, per una volta, il pallone arriverà nell’altro angolo. Ma se il tiratore continuasse a pensare insieme al portiere e decidesse quindi di tirare nel solito angolo? E così via, e così via.” Bloch vide che a poco a poco tutti i giocatori uscivano dall’area di rigore. L’incaricato del calcio di rigore si aggiustò il pallone. Poi arretrò anche lui fino a uscire dall’area di rigore. “Quando il tiratore prende la rincorsa, il portiere indica involontariamente col corpo, poco prima che il pallone sia calciato, la direzione in cui si getterà, e il tiratore può tranquillamente calciare nell’altra direzione,” disse Bloch. “Il portiere avrebbe altrettante probabilità di sbarrare una porta con una pagliuzza.” Improvvisamente il tiratore si mise a correre. Il portiere, che indossava un vistoso maglione giallo, rimase perfettamente immobile, e l’incaricato del calcio di rigore gli calciò il pallone nelle mani”.
Il calcio di rigore è una meravigliosa e spietata e sorprendente metafora della vita.

Friday, 17 January 2020

chicken curry



In February, I fell into an I Miss GBBO rabbit hole (my interest waned when Mel, Sue and Mary Berry left, although perhaps it’s my loss) and found myself on Chetna Makan, the talented semifinalist from the 2014 season’s YouTube page, watching her make her mom’s chicken curry. It looked absolutely amazing. I watched the video, “BEST Chicken Curry recipe!” three times, and, having failed to find the recipe online or in her cookbooks, did that thing I imagine we had to in the pre-internet era of food television: wrote down the recipe from what she was saying. My kids were in the backseat and I kept saying “shh! I need to hear what spice this is!” (I’m fun.)

fresh tomatoes, just trust memarinated chicken, onions, tomatoes, and spice
I have so many dishes of Indian subcontinent origin on this site, but there hasn’t been a go-to chicken curry, just this sheet pan tikka, mostly because I didn’t know I needed one in my life. Silly Deb. But then I followed the recipe from my scrawled notes, we ate it for dinner, and absolutely did not shut up about it for at least three weeks after, telling everyone I saw about this “unbelievably good chicken curry” that would now be a staple in my cooking repertoire forever. I told friends to watch the video and make it, and would then text them a list of the changes I’d made and shockingly, this [“Watch and transcribe a 5-minute cooking video and then make these edits”] didn’t tempt anyone. I mean, if only I had an internet website I could share the edited recipe on and send them a link to? Nah, who needs that noise.

cook onions and cumin seedadd all the spicesadd tomatoes and pasteadd the marinated chicken
But despite vowing to make it forever and ever, I didn’t do it again for eight months, and I realized as some point I was afraid that my notes weren’t very good or that I’d remembered is better than it was — because it’s that the worst, having oversold something… to yourself? However, last week my craving was finally stronger than my fear of muddling the memory of it with something good but not shout-from-the-rooftops good and I tackled it again and it barely made it to the table for dinner because everyone around that day wanted to eat it straight from the pot, standing up. It is shockingly rich for something with only a cup of yogurt in it, but more, cozy and complex. Cooking the base flavors deeply and layered helps build a foundation that makes even a 6-pack of chicken thigh cutlets from the grocery store taste like something you’ve toiled over all day. I will never go eight months without making it again.
finished chicken curry
PREVIOUSLY
Six months ago: Toasted Pecan Cake
One year ago: Even More Perfect Apple Pie
Two years ago: Quick Pasta and Chickpeas and Chocolate Olive Oil Cake
Three years ago: Garlic Wine and Butter Steamed Clams, Baked Alaska, Indian-Spiced Cauliflower Soup and Skillet-Baked Pasta with Five Cheeses
Four years ago: My Old-School Baked Ziti and Cannoli Pound Cake
Five years ago: Better Chicken Pot Pies and Better Chocolate Babka
Six years ago: Miso Sweet Potato and Broccoli Bowl and Purple Plum Torte
Seven years ago: Pumpkin Cinnamon Rolls
Eight years ago: Apple Pie Cookies
Nine years ago: Mushroom Lasagna
Ten years ago: Quiche Lorraine and Breakfast Apple Granola Crisp
Eleven years ago: Majestic and Moist Honey Cake, Best Challah (Egg Bread), and Mom’s Apple Cake
Twelve years ago: Peter Reinhart’s Bagels and Peanut Butter Brownies
Thirteen years ago: Lemon Cake

Chicken Curry

  • SERVINGS: 4 TO 6
  •   
  • SOURCE: CHETNA MAKAN
Note: This dish was previously, incorrectly called “Chicken Tikka Masala.” All the other recipe notes are at the end of the recipe, since there are many.
  • 2 1/4 pounds boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 2-inch pieces
  • 1 cup plain, full-fat yogurt (I use Greek; with Greek, 2% worked too)
  • 4 garlic cloves, minced or grated, divided
  • 2-inch piece of ginger, minced or grated, divided
  • 2 teaspoons kosher salt, divided, plus more to taste
  • 2 to 3 tablespoons neutral oil or ghee
  • 2 large yellow onions, minced
  • 1 teaspoon cumin seeds
  • About 2 1/2 cups small diced fresh tomatoes, from 3 to 4 roma tomatoes, or 1 15-ounce can crushed tomatoes
  • 2 tablespoons tomato paste
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons ground turmeric
  • 1 teaspoon garam masala
  • 1 tablespoon ground coriander
  • 1/2 to 1 teaspoon cayenne or a mild chile powder, such as kashmiri, or to taste
  • 1/2 cup water
Combine chicken thighs with yogurt, half of garlic, ginger, and salt in a bowl and set aside for whatever time you’ve got — you can use them right away, in an hour, or up to a day.
In a large (4 quarts), heavy pan with a lid, heat oil or ghee. Once hot add onions and cumin seeds, cook 5 minutes, until browned at edges. Add remaining ginger and garlic and cook one to two minutes more. Add remaining salt, turmeric, garam masala, coriander, and cayenne or another chile powder cook for two minutes. Add tomatoes and cook until they begin to break down, 4 minutes. Add tomato paste, cook for another 2 minutes. Add chicken and yogurt marinade from bowl, plus water, stir to combine, and bring to a simmer, stirring. Simmer 25 to 30 minutes over low heat, covered, stirring once or twice to ensure everything is cooking evenly.
Chicken is done when it is cooked through and very tender (you can cut a larger chunk in half to check for doneness). Adjust seasoning as needed and serve with rice.
Notes:
* In the video, Chetna Makan makes this with one whole chicken that’s been skinned and cut into chunks; I do not doubt that having bones in the mix provide a deeper flavor. I went with boneless chicken thighs for speed and ease.
* Re, fresh tomatoes: I often see fresh tomatoes suggested in Indian dishes and found it surprising, when they’re so lousy out of season and canned tomatoes are so consistent. But in Priya Krishna’s Indian-ish cookbook, she suggests that you only use canned tomatoes “if you have to.” She said she finds that even those sad fresh winter tomatoes seem to work better in bringing that necessary brightness to Indian dishes than canned ones.” I’ve used fresh tomatoes in dishes that call for them since, even firm, unjuicy ones, and really like the complexity they bring once cooked. I’m fully converted.
* Re, removing dairy: I definitely think you could marinate the chicken in full-fat coconut milk (I find the cans from Trader Joe’s particularly rich) for a similarly delicious dish.
* Re, InstantPot: Yes, I think you could. Chunks of boneless thighs usually take 7 minutes for me on high, however, I suspect by the time the IP comes up to pressure and then releases, you’ll have saved little of the 25 minutes stovetop simmering time. But, the IP is hands-off, and that counts too.
* About the name: Makan calls the recipe chicken curry, but I took the liberty of calling it by what seems to be its full dish name: chicken tikka masala. (Please correct me if I’m wrong.) I read mixed things about the word “curry,” which can be confusing — more here on why, but it’s basically it’s catch-all term that doesn’t mean a whole lot.
* I’m using the pot you probably see all of the time here, a Staub 4-quart braiser. The rice you see is golden sella basmati rice; I bought mine at Kalustyan’s.

salted caramel pretzel blondies



My son went to sleep-away camp two weeks for the first time this summer and it was terrible. Oh, I don’t mean for him. I got the full, joyful report when we collected him the first second they let us fly through the gate on Saturday, but even the bits and pieces we’d heard sooner sounded ebullient. He was having the time of his life! But I found it agonizing. Whose idea was this? (Mine.) What was I thinking? (That he’d enjoy it.) Wasn’t he just born? (He’ll be 10 next month.) How was he leaving us already? (You literally talked him into it.) Stop using reason with me! (I am having a full blown conversation with myself.) They were two very long weeks. I was shocked by the slack created when one person slips out of the rubberband that snugs you sometimes crushingly together, and the sheer amount of angst I could pour into this void. Friends with kids in camp went on vacations, went out every night, took up tennis, cleared out their backlog of stuff that never gets done. I did some of that stuff but a tremendous lot of mentally counting the days since he had probably last brushed his teeth, wondering if he’d even unwrapped the packing seal on the sunscreen cans, joking way too many times that we’d sent the wrong kid away (acting out means you miss your brother in 4 year-old-ese, right?) and reloading the parent portal with the occasional camper photos so many times my computer thinks it’s my homepage. (Pauses to check it again. Why stop now?)

add butter and creamwhisk until smoothcook a few minutes morechill thissome stuff you'll needone-bowl blondiesquick blondie batteradd the pretzels an chocolatechop the firm carameladd the caramel pieces
I had a chance to slip him a care package during a friend’s visiting day. Silly putty, a yoyo, some new markers, ping pong paddles, a joke book, a whoopie cushion, just the essentials, and I decided to bake something, too. And by something I mean, Hi, have we met? The person who prepared for motherhood by mastering the art of birthday cake? The person who prepared for labor and delivery by hoping to bribe the nurses into give me the best drugs sooner? No, I was not going to make any old brownies or blondies. Remember The Parent Trap? “If their date is half as good as these cookies, we’ll be sisters in no time!” This was the energy I was channeling as I folded a mosaic of salted butter caramels, crushed pretzels, and oversized chocolate chips into my usual blondies.
ready to bake
caramel pretzel blondies (care package blondies)
I took a page from my salted caramel brownies. I know making your own caramel candies just to chop them into bits to put in another baked good seems like an excess of work but this is so quick, it takes exactly 8 minutes, and then they firm up (15 minutes, tops) while you prep everything else. The result is otherworldly but look, I’m not going to convince you that you need salted caramel crushed pretzel chocolate chunk blondies in your life. You either already knew nothing would be okay until you had them the moment you read the title or no amount of me telling you that they’re unbelievable (pockets of dark caramel, embedded crunchy salted pretzels, that kind of thing), will change your mind. I am at peace with both options, but mostly because I chose the more delicious one.
caramel pretzel blondies (care package blondies)caramel pretzel blondies (care package blondies)
PREVIOUSLY
Six months ago: Cauilflower and Tomato Masala with Peas
One year ago: Layered Mocha Cheesecake
Two years ago: Fried Rice with Zucchini, Tomatoes, and Parmesan
Three years ago: Chocolate Peanut Butter Icebox Cake and Burrata with Lentils and Basil Vinaigrette
Four years ago: Frozen Hot Chocolate
Five years ago: Raspberry Swirl Cheesecake and Smoky Eggplant Dip
Six years ago: Kale Salad with Pecorino and Walnuts and Rice-Stuffed Tomatoes
Seven years ago: My Favorite Brownies
Eight years ago: Tomato Salad with Crushed Croutons
Nine years ago: Raspberry Limeade Slushies and Sweet Corn Pancakes
Ten years ago: Summer Pea and Roasted Red Pepper Pasta Salad, Lobster Rolls, and Espresso Chiffon Cake with Fudge Frosting
Eleven years ago: Key Lime Meltaways, Grilled Eggplant with Caponata Salsa, and Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake
Twelve years ago: Summer Bean Salad, Brownie Mosaic Cheesecake, and Plum Tartlets
Thirteen years ago: Chocolate Caramel Cheesecake

Salted Caramel Pretzel Blondies

  • SERVINGS: 16 TO 25 SMALL, DECADENT SQUARES
  •   
  • SOURCE: SMITTEN KITCHEN
One of the most frequently asked questions about my go-to blondies is “where’s the baking powder?” I don’t think brownies or blondies should have baking powder in them; I don’t like the slight cakeiness. But remember? This is your kitchen, you should make things in the way that brings you the most joy. I’ve also tested them with an added 1/2 teaspoon baking powder (add before the flour and mix well) and it works well, if that’s your preference.
    CARAMEL
  • 1/3 cup (65 grams) granulated sugar
  • 2 tablespoons (30 grams) unsalted butter
  • Flaky sea salt
  • 2 tablespoons (30 ml) heavy cream
  • BLONDIES
  • 8 tablespoons (4 ounces or 115 grams) unsalted butter
  • 3/4 cup (145 grams) light or dark brown sugar
  • 1 large egg
  • 1 teaspoon (5 ml) vanilla extract
  • 1/2 teaspoon flaky sea salt, or 1/4 teaspoon coarse sea salt
  • 1 cup (130 grams) all-purpose flour
  • 2/3 cup (115 grams) dark chocolate chips or chunks
  • 1/2 cup thin salted pretzels, lightly crumbled
Make caramel: Cover a medium-sized plate or small tray with parchment paper. Lightly butter or coat the parchment with a spray oil, just as an added security measure.
In a medium, dry saucepan over medium heat, melt your sugar; this took me exactly 4 minutes ever single time. By the time it is mostly melted, if should be a nice deep copper color (about 300°F to 325°F, but you do not need a thermometer to get the color right at this stage) and might smoke a little too, don’t worry. Tip and swirl the pan around to help even it out and melt any remaining sugar granules.
Remove pan from heat and whisk in butter until melted, then add a couple pinches of salt and cream, whisking until combined. Return pan to the stove over medium-high heat and cook without stirring for 3 minutes more, at which point it should be between 245°F and 250°F (the “firm ball” stage). If you don’t have a thermometer, the temperature is correct when a drop that lands in cold water will hold its shape but still be sticky when pressed with your fingers. Pour this caramel on to the prepared parchment and place in the freezer until needed. It will take 10 to 15 minutes to firm enough that it can be cut into squares.
Make blondies: Heat your oven to 350°F. Butter an 8×8-inch baking pan, or line the bottom and two sides of one with parchment paper, buttering the exposed parts. Melt butter about 2/3 of the way in the bottom of a large bowl, either over a double-boiler or in the microwave. Stir to melt the remaining 1/3 — this ensures the butter doesn’t get too hot to work with. Add sugar and whisk to combine, then egg, vanilla, and sea salt. Add flour and stir just until it disappears. Scattered chocolate chips and pretzels on batter. Remove caramel from freezer and cut quickly into 1-inch squares. Scatter all but 4 to 5 over bowl. Gently fold chunky ingredients into batter and spread in prepared baking pan, smoothing the top. Place remaining caramel squares on top.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until deeply golden at edges and mostly dry on top. [For a swirlier effect, drag a toothpick through a couple of the caramels on top about 15 minutes in.] Let cool in pan for 10 minutes before lifting blondies out by their parchment sling and cooling further on a rack. Cut into small squares and simply marvel at how popular you are.
Do ahead: These keep at room temperature for 3 days, and a week or more in the fridge.
If you’d like to ship them out: Freeze them and then pack them into your most snug, airtight container with layers of parchment paper between them. Wrap the top in plastic before putting the lid on. I sometimes go one step further and wrap the whole container in foil. Pack with peanuts or another filler in a larger box and choose the fastest shipping you can.

zucchini quesadillas



Sure, it’s only been one month since I wrote “I don’t find summer squash naturally loveable. Its flavor is not robust—fairly watery when fresh, slippery when cooked, and even when you do succeed in browning or crisping it, this textural triumph is short-lived.” But I never meant that I avoid it. Just because it may not be the most popular vegetable at the party doesn’t mean that it cannot flourish under the right conditions (salt, pepper, acidity, heat, herbs, and cheese — please). Conveniently, I almost always have these conditions in stock.

any zucchini you got
Lately, my favorite approach has been to cook it with garlic in it olive oil for about 15 minutes, at which point it becomes jammy — fully tender with concentrated flavors and excellent seasoning. Once you have a skillet of this, zucchini is your oyster. Maybe you fold it into an omelet with goat cheese and herbs? Maybe you mix it with big pasta, parmesan, basil leaves, and lemon? But last week, I mixed it with grated Monterey jack cheese and cooked it between two white corn tortillas until they were browned and crisp and it turns out, this might be my favorite use of it yet.
thinly slicedjammy zucchiniadd the cheeseassembly linedon't skimp on the crispzucchini quesadillas
I had planned to finish them with a punchy, herby sauce with jalapeño, cilantro, garlic, olive oil, salt, and maybe lime but then I decided, well, I didn’t want to do that. I’m sure the contrast would be lovely. Quesadillas risk being a little one-note without some acidity, you know? But the reality is that when you have a plate of warm, bronzed quesadillas with messy lacy brown edges that have formed when the melted cheese lands on and crisps in the pan ready to be eaten and the mouths nearby to happily volunteer for this service, nobody wants to make a sauce. So instead, they were scattered with jalapeño, cilantro, avocado, and lime juice and devoured before they were getting cold, always a triumph. I hope you don’t wait to get to them, either.
zucchini quesadillas
This just in: Hey, have you ever wondered what A Work Week In The Life Of Smitten Kitchen is like? Like, behind the scenes? This just went up online (I think it will be in Sunday’s paper), and I’d be remiss not to share it in the place where it all began.
PREVIOUSLY
One year ago: Minimalist Barbecue Sauce
Two years ago: German Chocolate Cake + A Wedding Cake
Three years ago: Blackberry Cheesecake Galette and Eggplant with Yogurt and Tomato Relish
Four years ago: Takeout-Style Sesame Noodles with Cucumber
Five years ago: Summer Squash Gratin with Salsa Verde and Bourbon Slush Punch
Six years ago: Mama Canales-Garcia’s Avocado-Shrimp Salsa
Seven years ago: Peach Pie
Eight years ago: Charred Corn Tacos with Zucchini-Radish Slaw
Nine years ago: Raspberry Brown Sugar Gratin and Summer Succotash with Bacon and Croutons
Ten years ago: Best Birthday Cake and Arugula, Potato and Green Bean Salad
Eleven years ago: Sauteed Radishes with Sugar Snaps and Dill and Nectarine, Mascarpone, and Gingersnap Tart
Twelve years ago: Red Pepper Soup and Cherry Clafoutis
And for the other side of the world:
Six Months Ago: Cauliflower and Tomato Masala with Peas
1.5 Years Ago: Quick, Essential Stovetop Mac-and-Cheese and Luxe Butterscotch Pudding
2.5 Years Ago: Tomato-Glazed Meatloaves with Brown Butter Mashed Potatoes
3.5 Years Ago: Broccoli Melts and White Russian
4.5 Years Ago: Perfect Corn Muffins and Spaghetti Pangrattato with Fried Eggs

Zucchini Quesadillas

  • SERVINGS: 6 QUESADILLAS
  •   
  • SOURCE: SMITTEN KITCHEN
We stuff a lot of zucchini into 6 6-inch quesadillas here. For my family, it serves us 4, but we always eat it with salad (see the lazy slaw at the end here) and sometimes another vegetable (this would be great). It might be safer to scale it up for robust appetites. I kept the filling mild with Aleppo pepper so that my kids would eat it, but for adults, I’d definitely mince a hot pepper and cook it into the filling along with the garlic.
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for frying quesadillas
  • 2 to 3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  • 1/2 teaspoon mild (aleppo) or hotter red pepper flakes
  • 1 1/2 pounds zucchini or other slim summer squash, halved and thinly sliced
  • Kosher salt
  • 1 lime, halved
  • 6 ounces grated monterey jack cheese
  • 12 6-inch corn tortillas
  • Sliced avocado, chopped fresh cilantro, additional lime, and thinly sliced jalapeno to finish
Heat a large skillet over medium. Once hot, add oil. Once oil is hot, add garlic and cook, stirring, until just golden at the edges, about 1 minute. Add zucchini, 1 teaspoon kosher salt, and red pepper flakes and increase heat to medium-high. Cook, turning over occasionally, until zucchini becomes soft and starts to break down, about 5 minutes. Reduce heat slightly and cook 7 to 10 minutes more, at which point the zucchini will be jammy and very tender. Taste for seasoning — I needed about 1/2 teaspoon more salt here. Add the juice of half your lime and scrape mixture into a wide bowl. Let cool slightly while you prepare any toppings or grate the cheese you probably haven’t yet, if you’re me.
Add cheese to zucchini mixture and mix. Lay out 6 of your tortillas and divide the filling between them, going all the way to the edges. Place remaining 6 tortillas on top.
While you could use your large skillet again, I prefer a nonstick for these quesadillas. Heat the skillet of your choice over medium and add a couple teaspoons of oil. Transfer your assembled quesadillas to the skillet and cook until deeply golden and crisp underneath, letting whatever cheese seeps out cook and crisp in the pan. Flip quesadilla(s) and repeat on second side. Try to take all of the lacy brown cheese with you when you remove your finished quesadillas from the pan. Squeeze the juice of the remaining lime half over them.
Serve halved or in wedges with additional lime wedges, avocado, cilantro, and jalapeno.

corn salad with chile and lime



For July 4th, we hosted a dozen people (no, we don’t have space for this but why learn now) and I prepared six racks of ribs, a double batch of broccoli slaw, a kind of ad-hoc-ed potato salad with a mustardy-caesary vinaigrette, a charred corn salad, a flag cake, lemonade, Aperol spritzes, Suze-and-tonics, watermelon, and then we went up to the roof to light sparklers and watch the fireworks and approximately 95% of the people who slid into my DMs after seeing photos of all of this on Instagram only asked me about the corn. It’s okay, my ribs’ feelings will eventually recover.

first corn of the season
I get it though, it’s kind of cute (I’d unquestionably wear it as a printed skirt), especially with pink pickled onions, many shakes of Tajin (chile-lime salt), and cilantro on top. The corn salad is loosely modeled on esquites, the Mexican street snack. Typically, corn is cooked in butter with onions, chiles, and epazote (an herb) is served in cups with lime juice, chile powder, mayo, and crumbled cheese and I don’t care what you think, or think you think, of mayo; you will inhale it and then want another cup immediately. You often see these same ingredients slathered on to corn on the cob. But, I was craving more distinct layers of flavor — a cool dressing, warm corn, and then crunchy heat and acidity on top. (Also, I dreaded imagining the condition of my children’s okay my clothes if I made the slatethered-on version, but that’s not exactly a “culinary” decision.)
pickled red onionscharredcut from the cobmayo, sour cream, cotija
The result is basically inhale-able. Each element gets to be its best self and nothing mingles long enough to get monotonous. Or lingers, so you’ll just have to make it every weekend for as long as the good corn lasts.
corn salad with chile and lime
PREVIOUSLY
One year ago: Grilled Zucchini Ribbons with Pesto and White Beans
Two years ago: Grilled Pizza and Confetti Party Cake
Three years ago: Peaches and Cream Bunny Cake
Four years ago: Green Beans and Almond Pesto and Very Blueberry Scones
Five years ago: Sticky Sesame Chicken Wings and Brownie Ice Cream Sandwiches
Six years ago: Slow-and-Low Dry Rub Oven Chicken and Grilled Bacon Salad with Arugula and Balsamic
Seven years ago: Blackberry Gin Fizz and Bacon Corn Hash
Eight years ago: Skirt Steak with Bloody Mary Tomato Salad and Flatbreads with Honey, Thyme, and Sea Salt
Nine years ago: Bread and Butter Pickles, Blue Cheese and Red Potato Tart, Zucchini and Ricotta Galette and Porch Swing
Ten years ago: Mediterranean Pepper Salad, Cherry Brown Butter Bars and Watermelon Lemonade
Eleven years ago: Chopped Vegetables, Watermelon, and Feta Salad
Twelve years ago: Rosanne Cash’s All-American Potato Salad and Ratatouille’s Ratatouille
And for the other side of the world:
Six Months Ago: Bodega-Style Egg and Cheese Sandwich
1.5 Years Ago: Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup Cookies and Slow-Roasted Sweet Potatoes
2.5 Years Ago: Guacamole and Broccoli Pizza
3.5 Years Ago: Taco Torte and Miso Black Sesame Caramel Corn
4.5 Years Ago: Charred Cauliflower Quesadillas and Chocolate Oat Crumble

Corn Salad with Chile and Lime

  • SERVINGS: 4 TO 6 AS A SIDE
  •   
  • SOURCE: SMITTEN KITCHEN
If you cannot find cotija, use queso fresco, ricotta salata, feta, or another crumbly sharp cheese. Most cotija is salty and a little funky; I didn’t need any salt in my sauce below the corn, but with a milder cheese, you probably will.
  • 1/2 a small red onion, thinly sliced
  • 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
  • 1/2 teaspoon granulated sugar
  • Slightly heaped 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 6 medium ears corn, shucked
  • 1/3 cup sour cream
  • 1/3 cup mayonnaise
  • 3 ounces (heaped 1/2 cup) crumbled cotija cheese
  • 1 lime, halved
  • Tajín seasoning or chile powder
  • Handful of fresh cilantro leaves
Combine red onion, red wine vinegar, 2 tablespoons cold water, salt, and sugar in a bowl or jar. Set in fridge until needed. Onions will be very lightly pickled by the time you’re done assembling the salad, but if you can give it 1 to 2 hours in the fridge, they’ll be moreso.
Heat a grill to medium-high. Lightly oil grill grates and place corn cobs directly on them. Cook corn until charred in spots all over, turning as often as needed. Transfer them to a cutting board to cool slightly. Don’t have a grill? I have often charred corn directly over the gas flame on my stove (be careful; it will crackle and spatter a little). You oven’s broiler, should it be more robust than mine, might also work for the task.
While you’re grilling your corn, combine sour cream, mayo, and cotija cheese. Spread on the bottom of your serving plate. Cut corn corn from cobs with a sharp knife and heap it over the cheese spread on the platter. Squeeze the juice of half a lime all over, then scatter the corn with pickled onion rings from the fridge. Generously shake Tajín or chile powder all over; if you’re using plain chile powder, season with salt and an extra squeeze of lime, too. Top with cilantro leaves. Cut remaining lime half into wedges and serve alongside. Eat right away — while the dressing is cold and the corn is hot.

Roberto Baggio, Peter Handke e il calcio di rigore

Bravi gli azzurri (anche in maglia verde): battono 2-0 la Grecia all’Olimpico (Jorginho su rigore, Bernardeschi) e si qualifi...