December 11, 2010
What’s more, it’s delicious. This assessment comes from a girl who is a fan of such greens as chard, kale, and dandelion, but I promise you that it’s the truth. Vitamin greens are one of if not the sweetest winter green I have tasted to date. They’re sweeter even than chard and leave none of the chalky mouth-feel that it sometimes does.
I had never even heard of vitamin greens until last month, when I saw them mentioned in the weekly 14th & U Farmers’ Market e-newsletter. I have an ever-expanding love for greens and knew that I had to try them. They did not disappoint. They’re sweet and bright with just enough bite to bring them down to earth.
Over the next couple of weeks, in addition to the several bunches that we bought for immediate consumption, we also blanched and froze some for use during the winter. We haven’t broken into them yet, since one of the downtown farmer’s markets had fresh greens just last week. I am looking forward to adding the frozen greens to soups and stir fry.
Since we couldn’t find anything about how to cook vitamin greens, we improvised. The first time, I removed the stalks before cooking, but we learned at the market the next weekend that we could cook the stalks right along with the leaves.
That being said, if you want to reserve the stalks for another use, they’re great raw (sliced in salad or dipped in dressing). They’re also excellent in a cheddar-red-onion-vitamin-green-stalk omelet. (A concoction born of necessity: a near-empty refrigerator after almost a week away for Thanksgiving.) The omelet was so good that we made it a second time (with goat cheese instead of cheddar and the addition of thyme).
The below recipe is a quick, simple way to eat your greens. (And I honestly couldn’t believe how delicious they were!)
Sautéed Vitamin Greens
1 bunch vitamin greens (washed, trimmed, and roughly chopped)
1/2 red onion (sliced)
1 tablespoon olive or grapeseed oil
salt and pepper
In a wide Dutch oven or deep sauté pan, heat oil over medium heat. Add onion and a pinch of salt. Sauté, stirring frequently, until onions are translucent and just begin to caramelize, about 5 minutes. Add vitamin greens and toss until the greens begin to wilt. Continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until greens reach desired tenderness, about 5 to 10 minutes. Season to taste with salt and freshly ground pepper.
We had them with prosciutto-wrapped pork chops. There’s an excellent recipe here.
December 3, 2010
There is much debate in Italy, specifically between the cities of Venice and Padua, over the origins of the spritz as well as the correct way to make it. My allegiances lie with Venice. Aperol may have been invented in Padua, but the tradition of the spritz originated in Venice long before (or so I have on good authority).
For me lo spritz and la Venezia are inextricably bound. It happened many years ago in a typical Venetian bacaro, in a room of dark wooden walls and tables, surrounded by the sounds of young Italians gathering after work. I tasted my first spritz. It was just my kind of cocktail: a hint of sweetness – not too sweet – and slightly sparkly with a variety of different flavors working together for an engaging but not-too-complicated effect. It’s the kind of drink that’s fun to taste yet easy to just enjoy. We took our evening spritz in the traditional mode – the apertivo mixed perfectly and served with finger foods (like potato chips and nuts) to tide us over until dinner. I felt drawn by the sense of community around me and lucky to take part in one of the city’s many local customs. I was hooked.
In my opinion, it’s very important that the spritz be made with Aperol, not Campari. The latter is just too bitter for my tastes. And I’m not even a sweet cocktail kind of girl. Aperol is the perfect combination of bright and nutty flavors with just a touch of sweetness. The liqueur is an infusion of orange peel and a variety of herbs and spices (and contains 11 percent alcohol).
Until recently, living in the U.S. posed a great problem to making the perfect spritz. About 5 years ago, a liquor store in New York City started selling Aperol. To my knowledge, it was the first stateside. A couple of years later, I discovered a few more in various cities. In DC, every time I passed a new liquor store, I would inquire about Aperol. I usually got blank stares and always a “no.” This past August, the seemingly impossible happened. At a store near Dupont Circle, I found it. Shortly thereafter, I happened upon a “store locator” on the Aperol website. Apparently it’s all over the country now.
I was finally able to introduce to Brian my favorite apertivo, and we enjoyed one on the rooftop as often as possible. In fact, when we first had a spritz during our trip to Italy, Brian said it reminded him of home.
2 oz. prosecco (I’ve found that Cava also works well.)
1 - 2 oz. club soda or seltzer
a few ice cubes
November 19, 2010
Several weeks ago, we had November in October. This week it’s October in November.
I recently went to the 14&U farmers' market looking for the fresh lima beans I had seen at previous markets. They didn’t have any lima beans, but they did have another fresh bean, which the seller at Garner's Produce told us were called “October beans” and extolled the virtues of their rich, earthy flavor and meaty texture. At $5 for a 1-pound bag, they were a bit pricey, but we thought it might be worth it to give them a try. (And considering that they can replace the meat in a meal and last the two of us two meals apiece, it wasn’t a bad investment.) Our friend at Garner wasn’t kidding about how delicious they are. We went back for two more bags this past Saturday.
Their more complex flavor and meaty texture notwithstanding, cooking with fresh beans was such a pleasure. It was so easy just to come home from work, throw a few ingredients in a pot and have dinner an hour later.
I was curious to know more about these so-called October beans, so I did a little looking around on the internet. As it turns out, they are the very same beans my grandmother used to grow in her garden! They’re the ones I wrote about last year when I made my grandmother’s soup. My mother vaguely remembered that they were called “horticulture beans,” but neither of us knew where to find them.
They answer to many names, including October beans, horticulture beans, horticultural beans, French horticultural beans, cranberry beans, speckled cranberry beans, shelly beans, shell beans, and wren’s egg beans, to name a few.
Mystery solved! I thought. When I looked at pictures, I realized that they may not be quite the same thing – but they did seem to be called by the same set of names.
Back at the market this past Saturday, I asked the producer about this apparent discrepancy and he explained that, when fully mature, his beans would also be speckled like the ones I had seen online. He was having to pick them before fully mature this year because they were late to ripen because of the weather. (Or something to that effect. I don’t remember his exact words.) Second mystery solved.
Then I remembered a image from our recent trip to Italy: Could these also be the same beans we had seen at the market in Venice?
There, they were simply called “beans,” but their shells look awfully similar to those of October beans…
It makes me so happy to have discovered these beans again. When I spoke to my mother this evening and told her I had found horticulture beans, she was equally thrilled (which also makes me happy).
For our first taste of October beans, I wanted try something simple, so that the flavor of the beans would shine through.
October Bean Soup
5 oz. center-cut bacon, cut into small pieces
1 small or ½ large onion (yellow or red), chopped
2 small carrots, chopped
14 oz. fresh October Beans*
2 cups chicken broth
6 cups water
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
6 oz. short pasta, whole wheat or homemade**
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
*If you can’t find October beans, you may substitute another white bean, such as cannellini. If beans are dried, they should be soaked overnight. If they’re canned, reduce water by about half and reduce cooking time to about 20 minutes.
**Whenever possible, I prefer to use homemade egg pasta like my grandmother did. If I have homemade spaghetti or fettucine on hand, I break it into smaller (2- to 3-inch) pieces before adding it to the soup. This is also a great place to use the small scraps from a batch of longer pasta.
In a large pot (I use a Dutch oven), cook the bacon over medium heat until mostly cooked. Add the chopped vegetables and sauté, stirring occasionally, until the onions are translucent.
Add the beans, broth, and water and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until beans reach the desired consistency. Stir frequently and add additional water, as needed. When the beans are almost cooked, season with salt and pepper.
Increase heat slightly to bring the soup make to a full boil. Add the pasta and cook just until al dente. Do not overcook because the pasta will continue to soften in the hot soup. (Homemade, dried fettuccine will cook in about 3 minutes, while the whole wheat pasta we used takes 10-11 minutes.)
Variation: The second time around, I made variation similar to my grandma’s soup. (These are the same beans she used, after all.) I added 2-3 teaspoons of tomato paste and a couple dashes of white wine vinegar just before adding the pasta. This was intended to mimic her addition of ketchup to the broth. It came very close. Next time I might try adding a teaspoon of brown sugar (since ketchup is basically tomatoes, vinegar, and sugar).
The first time around, we used whole wheat pasta:
The second batch, made with homemade fettuccine:
November 18, 2010
Holiday Cheese Ball
makes 2 medium cheese balls
11 oz extra sharp white cheddar or sharp provolone, grated
16 oz cream cheese, softened
1 clove garlic
1 Tbsp grated onion
1 Tbsp lemon juice
1 Tbsp Worcestershire
½ tsp cayenne
½ cup almonds
In a food processor, combine cream cheese, garlic, onion, cayenne and Worcestershire sauce. Blend well. Add grated cheese and process until the cheese is fine, but still visible. Shape the mixture into balls or logs. Wrap individually in plastic wrap and place in the freezer for about 15 minutes.
While the cheese mixture is in the freezer, process the almonds until desired consistency is reached (a coarse chop is best). Spread the chopped nuts on a plate. Remove the balls from the freezer and roll them in chopped nuts.
The flavor is best when allowed to ‘season’ in the refrigerator for 24 hours.
Allow to sit at room temperature for at least 15 minutes before serving. Serve with crackers.
November 16, 2010
The Thanksgiving holiday is almost upon us, but Brian and I have already celebrated Thanksgiving once this year. In October (and no, we weren’t in Canada). We were in Italy.
As far as I know, it wasn’t actually Thanksgiving anywhere in the world on October 15, but when thinking of something “American” to cook for a group of Italian friends and having already made a 4th-of-July-style hamburger dinner complete with potato salad and baked beans (it was actually July 4th) and Tex-Mex on previous occasions, Thanksgiving seemed like the next logical step.
Actually, it was Francesca’s idea, and I’m not quite sure she knew what she was getting herself into when she suggested it. I’m not sure I realized the full implications when I agreed to it. Or I had forgotten the amount of planning, time, and effort that went into the first Thanksgiving dinner I made. On the other hand, Francesca and I love to cook whenever we visit each other, so making Thanksgiving dinner didn’t seem like a bad way to spend a day or two of our time in Venice.
It was late Tuesday night when we made the decision. There would be about 15 guests and at the meal that would take place Friday evening – a pretty quick turnaround, especially considering our location and compared to last year when I spent a week-and-a-half preparing for half as many people. We would start with appetizers: a cheese ball and the Venetian apertivo, spritz all’Aperol. The main meal would consist of turkey, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, sweet potato casserole, corn casserole, and green beans. For dessert we would make pumpkin cheesecake and chocolate chip cookies.
I didn’t think about the fact that the butcher would need a day to get us the turkey nor the fact that I needed 24 to 48 hours to dry-brine the turkey. When it finally occurred to me Wednesday afternoon, the butcher was already closed for the day. The way dry-brining works is that the salt draws the juices out of the turkey, dissolves in the juices, and then gets absorbed back into the turkey along with the liquid – resulting in a tender, juicy turkey that is well-seasoned throughout. We would have needed at least 24 hours to allow the process to take place. Stopped halfway through it would result in a very dry, unsalted bird. So I would have to figure out something else.
When we stopped by the butcher’s on Thursday, he said he could have a turkey for us Friday morning. Thursday afternoon we hit the grocery stores with a long list of ingredients. We were relatively successful.
Cranberries: We didn’t find cranberries, so we bought a jar of “whole berry” Ocean Spray cranberry sauce at a specialty shop. It was actually pretty good – much better than the canned stuff. (If you’re in Venice looking for American or other specialty ingredients, try Rizzo market, located near the Rialto bridge. In Rome, look for Castroni, which is a chain selling a huge selection of imports, specialty ingredients, wine, and candy.)
Sweet potatoes: Although sweet potatoes aren’t native to Italy, Francesca was familiar with them and thought we would find them at the supermarket. We did -- a bin full of knobby, twisted patate americane.
Pumpkin: The word for pumpkin in Italian is zucca, which just means “squash” or “gourd” (and is also the basis of the word “zucchini,” which means “little squash”). I was surprised not to find pumpkin, but we found plenty of other large winter squash, which were shaped more like butternut squash than pumpkin. We chose one that was sold cut in half because we were able to see that the firm orange flesh closely resembled that of a pumpkin.
Baking soda: It’s so basic an ingredient in so many different things – from cookies to toothpaste – that one wouldn’t think it would be difficult to find. It’s not – if you know where to look. We were in the supermarket for over an hour and spent a significant portion of that time looking for baking soda. It wasn’t in the baking aisle. We checked several times. It wasn’t in the cleaning section. We made several trips up and down that aisle, too. We finally asked a stock person if he knew where it was, and he brought us right to it. In the beverage aisle, right next to several kinds of additives for turning still water into sparkling. Of course.
Baking powder: Once we had baking soda, the baking powder was simple. By mixing one part baking soda with two parts cream of tartar (found in the baking aisle), we had baking powder!
Cheddar cheese: We didn’t find it, so we substituted sharp provolone for the cheese ball instead.
Salt pork: The Italian equivalent seems to be lardo. Pancetta could also work, but for our purposes (flavoring not consuming), the fattier lardo was more appropriate (and cheaper).
Cheese cloth: Surely we could have found cheese cloth somewhere, but we didn’t have time to seek out a specialty store. Instead, we ended up using loosely woven cross-stitching fabric. Why the grocery store would carry cross-stitching fabric and not cheesecloth is beyond me.
Pecans: Both the sweet potato casserole (topping) and the pumpkin cheesecake (crust) called for pecans. We knew we wouldn’t find them anywhere in Venice, so we substituted hazelnuts, which we thought would go equally well with holiday spices (with the added bonus that Brian isn’t allergic to them).
Vanilla wafers: For the cheesecake crust, we substituted the Barilla brand “Mulino” cookies for vanilla wafers. The Mulino cookies are denser but have a very similar flavor. I like them even better.
Brown sugar* and vanilla extract** were easy – We had brought Francesca 2 boxes of brown sugar and 2 bottles of vanilla extract from home.
*Nope, no brown sugar in Italy—at least not brown sugar the way we think of it. There is, however, zucchero di canna, which is un- or partially-refined sugar similar to Sugar in the Raw and, hence, contains some molasses. It’s not exactly the same thing as the “light brown sugar” and “dark brown sugar” that Americans use because ours are made by adding a standardized amount of molasses back into refined white sugar. I have never baked with zucchero di canna in place of refined brown sugar. I have read that it can work as a substitute but may yield some flavor and texture differences because of its lower molasses content.
American-style brown sugar can be made by adding molasses to white sugar. However, molasses is only found at specialty/import stores in Italy. For a brief primer on the different types of brown sugar, try this article.
**I don’t know why Italians don’t seem to use vanilla extract. The baking sections in grocery stores sell an artificially-flavored vanilla powder, but no real vanilla extract, which seems strange to me in such a food-conscious culture.
If you find yourself in Italy without vanilla extract, you can make it yourself. All you need is pure-grain alcohol or vodka, vanilla beans, and time. Two other food bloggers have useful posts on the subject here and here.
By the time we finished shopping, it was time to make dinner and get some prep done for Friday. I started with the cheesecake, which first required roasting the squash. I had never made the cheesecake with fresh pumpkin/squash before but discovered that I could substitute an equivalent amount of roasted squash for the canned pumpkin called for in the recipe. It worked out about the same in both volume and weight.
The oven in Francesca’s kitchen was apparently running hot because the cheesecake came out burnt with 15 minutes of cooking time left on the clock. Fortunately a hot oven and a burnt cheesecake were no match for our kitchen-problem-solving team:
I think it was even better than usual. We shaved off the burnt layer and covered it with sweetened cinnamon-ginger whipped cream and some crushed cookies and hazelnuts.
Friday morning, while I got things ready around the kitchen, Brian and Francesca went for the turkey.
Then we had to figure out what to do with it.
I had decided on a short (6-hour) wet brine, and as luck would have it, there was a large, new bucket that was just about big enough to hold the entire turkey. By removing a refrigerator shelf and some of the contents, we were able to just fit the turkey inside.
While preparing the turkey for brining, I realized that something was missing. Unlike American butchers, the macellaio hadn’t automatically included the neck and giblets, and I hadn’t thought to ask for them. How was I going to make gravy with no turkey parts?
Brian and Francesca went back to the butcher to see if he still had the rest of the turkey. He explained that he never had the giblets to begin with; he would have had to specially request them when he ordered the turkey.
On the opposite side of the Grand Canal near the fish market, there was another butcher shop where Brian and I had seen half a lamb, an entire skinned rabbit, and a turkey sliced right down the middle on display in the window the day before. If anyone had what we were looking for, that butcher shop would. But instead of turkey giblets, Francesca and Brian got only strange looks. As a last resort, they asked for chicken instead. Although he was still confused by the request, the butcher picked a chicken neck and heart from the scrap pile and wrapped them up – but not before asking whether or not they were sure that the meat would be enough for us to eat. At that point Brian and Francesca didn’t have the patience to explain what we were making, but knowing that the chicken parts would be smaller than a turkey’s, they asked for a second chicken neck and left.
Meanwhile back in the kitchen, I had moved on to the sweet potatoes. Once I had washed all the dirt off, they looked suspiciously pale, and when I cut them open after baking, I was dismayed to see that they were white. So… not sweet potatoes. Right?
Then I tasted them. White sweet potatoes!
(In related news, the first weekend after we returned from Italy, Brian and I went to the farmers’ market where we saw… you guessed it, white sweet potatoes.)
The first challenge was getting it out of the refrigerator without spilling raw-turkey-salt-water all over the kitchen floor. We decided to scoop out the water until it was several inches below the top of the bucket.
Then the turkey could be removed from the fridge, drained, patted dry, and stuffed;
then its fat deposits pierced, its skin rubbed with a baking soda-salt mixture (for crispness),
its legs tied up, and its back draped with lardo (for flavor).
In place of a roasting pan, we used an oven rack set over a shallow pan of the same width (which was made to slide into oven the same way that a rack fits in the oven). Because they were exactly the width of the oven, the only way they would fit was to actually slide into the built-in grooves, putting the turkey and rack at one level and the pan on the level below the turkey. Thus, getting the turkey in and out of the oven without dripping all over the oven floor was a precarious two-person job.
A little over an hour into cooking the turkey, we started to smell something burning. I was sure it was just some drippings that had hit the oven floor when we took the turkey out to remove the lardo and turn it over. When it seemed that the burning smell was not going away but getting worse, we finally investigated. It was the turkey legs touching the top of the oven. So we performed another death-defying, four-handed turkey removal and moved it to a lower rack in the oven. After that, things went perfectly smoothly.
While the turkey continued to roast, we started the gravy and prepped the casseroles, which would to go into the oven during the turkey’s half-hour rest.
The turkey came out crisp on the outside and juicy on the inside. It could have had a touch more salt but not to the extent that anyone really noticed.
The cheese ball was a hit! I barely had time to snap a picture of it before it was gone.
Our friends were fascinated by Brian’s turkey-carving, having been exposed to American movies in which the patriarchal figure ceremoniously carves the bird at an elaborate dinner table surrounded by family and friends.Brian’s carving was not so ceremonial, but quite impressive, especially considering he’d only done it once before and that this time he had an audience. The spread (minus the stuffing):
Finally out of the kitchen:
The plate would have been more colorful if we’d had time to make green beans and if the the potatoes had been orange. But no one else seemed to mind, so I didn’t worry about it either. I was relieved to see how much everyone enjoyed the meal and even came back for seconds. We hardly had any leftovers, which is quite a rarity at Thanksgiving dinner.
I thought it was interesting that one friend commented on how strange it was to have sweet and savory dishes on his plate at the same time. He wasn’t sure how to handle it because it was difficult to go back and forth between sweet and savory every other bite. The American approach to meals is quite different from the Italian, especially at Thanksgiving, when there may be 8 different foods piled onto a plate, whereas Italians never have more than two at a time.
All in all, our day-and-a-half of work ended in a meal that was a great success and worth every ounce of effort.
Coming soon: more about Italy and recipes related to this post!
November 6, 2010
Brian and I spent the first 17 days of October in Europe. It was my first trip back to Italy in five years and Brian’s first ever. It’s a trip we talked about taking for years – since before we were even really dating.
In the 19 days since we returned, I have sat down at the computer to write about the trip at least 19 times. I’ve struggled to find a place to begin, and I’ve struggled to stay awake. And I’ve struggled to come to terms with the fact that we’re back in the States. My body seems to be fighting it just as much as my heart. I still feel like it’s 3 o’clock in the morning at 9pm, and part of me doesn’t want to adjust back to this time zone. Just as my brain doesn’t want to adjust back to composing sentences in English.
I know that prima o poi I’ll get accustomed to being back here. Prima o poi we’ll return to Italy. And sooner or later I’ll write a real post about our trip!
September 26, 2010
Today is the first day of fall that actually feels like fall! We woke up to a cool, drizzly Sunday, and after three days of 90-degree weather, it’s a welcome change.
As my self-proclaimed idea guy, Brian is always dreaming up things he’d like me to cook. Often they’re inspired by ingredients we have on hand and other times they’re dredged up from childhood memories in his parents’ kitchens or restaurants around St. Louis. When the weather turned cooler a few weeks ago, Brian decided that he wanted ham and bean soup like his dad used to make. Since we recently decided to try to avoid canned food, I was excited to cook with dried beans for the first time (super easy and cheaper than canned beans). The search for a smoked ham hock for the base of the soup brought me to Eastern Market for the first time in over 2 years (and the second time since I’ve lived in DC). I appreciate the market even more this time than I did two years ago, and I’m planning to make it a regular stop! It’s so refreshing to find real butchers. (Not like the ones at the grocery store, who looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language when I asked for a ham hock.)
The recipe below is based upon instructions from Brian’s dad, with a few of my own tweaks.
Ham and Cannellini Bean Soup
1 pound dried cannellini beans
1 smoked ham hock
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1/2 medium onion, chopped
1 large stalk celery, chopped
2 medium carrots, peeled and chopped
2 bay leaves
2 cups fully cooked ham, diced (about 1/2 pound)
freshly ground black pepper
salt, as needed
The night before making the soup, pick through the beans and discard any that are wrinkled or discolored. Then rinse the beans and soak overnight in a pot with 6 cups of water.
Drain the beans.
In a large pot or Dutch oven, cover the ham hock with water by about 2 inches. Bring to boil. Reduce heat slightly and maintain a gentle boil for 1 hour, adding water as necessary to cover ham.
After about 45 minutes, sauté chopped vegetables over medium heat with about 1 tablespoon vegetable oil, until vegetables are tender and just begin to brown.
Add the vegetables, bay leaves, and drained beans to the pot with the ham hock.
Cover and boil for another 1.5 to 3 hours, until the beans reach desired tenderness and ham hock is falling off the bone, like so:
During approximately the last 1/2 hour of cooking, add the diced ham.
Before serving, remove bay leaves and ham hock from soup. Discard skin, fat, and bone, Chop remaining ham and add back to the pot.
Season with freshly ground black pepper and salt, if needed (ours didn’t need any additional salt).
Serve with cornbread, an onion wedge, and a small mound of sea salt.*
*The McCue method for eating ham and bean soup:
- Take one layer of onion wedge.
- Dip onion in salt.
- Bite onion.
- Take a bite of soup.
- (I was scared at first, too. But it was quite tasty and fun!)
September 22, 2010
Despite my Southern upbringing, I had never cooked with okra before tonight. Most of my experiences with okra are concentrated in my early childhood. It stands out because my younger sister – the pickiest eater of us all – loved okra. I remember her saying it was her favorite vegetable. It baffled (and impressed) me that she liked it so much when there were so many other foods she wouldn’t eat. Not to be out done by my little sister, I ate okra with very little protest even though it certainly wasn’t one of my favorite foods. I’ve eaten okra plenty of times since then, but I had never sought it out and cooked it myself until this week.
I supposed I didn’t seek it out this time either. When we came across it at the farmers market recently, my mid-westerner husband told me how much he loves okra. I can’t think of a vegetable that Brian doesn’t like, but he rarely gets as excited as I do about anything at the market, so I was happy to oblige.
I went back and forth over what to do with the okra for most of the evening and perused a number of online recipes before finally deciding on fritters. This recipe is adapted from Scott Peacock’s “Okra Fritters,” as featured on the Today Show a few years ago.
2 fresh ears of corn (or 1 cup frozen, in a pinch)
3 cups thinly sliced okra
1/2 medium red onion, finely chopped (about 1/2 cup)
2/3 cup finely ground corn meal
1/2 cup flour
1 3/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
freshly ground black pepper
oil for frying
Peel husks and silks from the corn and discard. Remove the kernels from the ears by standing the ear vertically on a large cutting board and carefully running a sharp knife down the length of the ear until all kernels have been removed. Set kernels aside. Extract remaining corn from ears by running a spoon down each ear until all is removed. This should yield about 3-4 tablespoons between the two ears. Set corn “pulp” aside.
Bring a medium pot of water to boil. Add corn kernels and cook for 2 minutes. Reserve 1 cup of corn cooking water; then drain blanched kernels in a fine mesh strainer.
In a large bowl whisk together cornmeal, flour, 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, and baking powder.
Whisk together egg, 2/3 cup cooking water, and corn pulp. Stir egg mixture into dry ingredients just until combined. It should be the consistency of a thick cake batter. Add a little more cooking water if batter seems too dry.
Heat 1/4-inch of oil in a cast iron skillet(or other heavy pan) over medium-high heat. Adjust heat to maintain a temperature between 340°and 350°F. (Use a candy thermometer to monitor temperature.)
Drop heaping tablespoons of batter one at a time into hot oil.* (I used a 1-oz./#30 cookie scoop and flattened the fritters slightly with the back of the scoop.)
When the fritters are well browned on the underside (about 3-4 minutes), carefully turn them over and cook for another 3-4 minutes.
Remove cooked fritters to a paper towel-lined plate and keep warm in oven until ready to serve.
*I’m not a very experienced at stovetop deep- (or not-so-deep-)frying. (We always had a dedicated appliance for that.) Maybe I was doing something wrong, but I had a little trouble with oil splattering up at me without warning. (I have hot oil to thank for a new – thankfully tiny – burn on my arm.) I highly recommend using a splatter screen if you have it.