CORN, FROM ILLINOIS TO SPAIN

Sweet corn--not Illinois, but not bad.

You can take the girl out of Illinois, set her down in Spain beneath an olive tree, but you can’t take the CORN out of the girl. Corn is deep in my memory bank. Acres and acres of field corn growing all around the town where I grew up (yes, this is where high fructose corn syrup comes from). Grocery stores with heaps of sweet corn in the summer.  Best of all was Sunday dinner at Aunt Gail’s farm in southern Illinois with sweet corn picked from the garden to go with the fried chicken, green beans and sliced tomatoes. Uncle Gene said you could hear the corn growing and, on a quiet summer's evening, I would go stand among the tassels and listen. I was sure that murmur was the sound of corn pushing upwards.

The first few years in Spain, we tried growing sweet corn, getting family to send us seeds for Illini Chief Super Sweet, a hybrid developed in Illinois.  Our Spanish friends thought we were nuts. They swore corn was only to feed to hogs. Even when we gave them some to taste, they turned up their noses. The indignity, too, of eating it right off the cob!

Corn did not do well in the poor, sun-baked soil on our hillside in southern Spain and we gave up growing it. But, a few years down the pike, I discovered a local source for sweet corn. Inland, on the vega, the fertile plain, of Antequera, some Americans associated with an evangelical church in Torremolinos were growing the real stuff.

Guys peddled the corn at intersections on the main highway. Trips to the airport in the summer meant a stoplight purchase of corn.

The Antequera farm, now a rehab center (Asociación Real de Rehabilitación de Marginados), is still growing corn, now marketed in the big hypermarkets up and down the coast as King Corn, el Rey de Maiz.

While Spaniards have been willing to accept canned corn kernels as edible (indiscriminately tossed in mixed salad, I detest them), I’m guessing most are still not eating corn-on-the-cob.

Mostly I serve corn-on-the cob not so differently from back in my Illinois girlhood. Only, instead of butter or, god forbid, margarine, I serve it drizzled with extra virgin olive oil. For an especially Spanish twist, I make a dressing, aliño, with ½ tsp smoked pimentón (paprika), 2 tbsps extra virgin olive oil, 2 cloves minced garlic, ½ tsp coarse salt and 1 tsp chopped parsley.

Corn, of course, is a New World plant, which may explain why it took so long to be naturalized in Spain. But, then, so are tomatoes, beans and peppers and they are totally accepted here.

Two areas of Spain where corn has long been part of the diet are Galicia in the northwest and the Canary Islands in the Atlantic off the coast of Morocco (yes, the archipelago is part of the Spanish nation). Galicia uses cornmeal in yeasted bread, pancakes, empanadas. Canary Islanders use a type of cornmeal, gofio, made from toasted grain that is ground to flour. And, corn-on-the-cob (piñas de millo or maíz) goes into typical stews such as puchero and potaje.

Potaje canario with corn, vegetables and pork.

This Canary Islands potaje seems especially appropriate to the season, with many late-summer vegetables as well as the corn. Heading into fall, other vegetables can be included as well—cabbage, chayote, sweet potatoes, carrots and chard are all typical. If desired, serve the soup with a side of escaldón, a cornmeal mush made with gofio and the broth from the soup pot. Because gofio is a toasted flour, it does not need cooking. (If Canarian gofio is not available, use Venezuelan arepa flour, which also is a precooked cornmeal.)

For vegetarian potaje, just omit the meat.

 

Potaje Canario con Verduras
Canary Islands Vegetable Pot with Corn

Stewing beef can be used instead of pork. For a vegetarian version, omit the meat and add 2 tablespoons of olive oil to the soup.

Serves 6.

1 pound pork ribs
10 cups water
1 cup chopped onion
2 tomatoes, peeled and chopped
1 teaspoon salt
2 cloves garlic
½ teaspoon cumin
Pinch of saffron (or substitute pimentón, paprika)
1 cup cooked or canned chick peas or pinto beans
2 or 3 ears of corn, cut crosswise in thirds
2 cups diced pumpkin or butternut squash
2 cups diced potatoes
1 cup garden cress
2 cups diced zucchini
1 cup green beans
Escaldón as an accompaniment (recipe follows)

Hack the slab of ribs in half crosswise, then cut each rib. Place the ribs in a soup pot with the water, onion, tomatoes and chickpeas. Bring to a boil, then lower heat to a simmer.

In a mortar crush the salt, garlic, cumin and saffron. Dissolve in a little of the broth from the pot and stir it into the pot along with the chick peas. Cook until the meat is almost tender, 30 minutes.

Add the corn, pumpkin, potatoes, cress, zucchini and green beans. Taste for salt and add more if needed. Cover and cook until vegetables are tender.

Serve the pieces of pork ribs, chick peas, corn and vegetables in soup plates with some of the broth.

Escaldón
Corn Meal Mush

Serve escaldón as a side dish with soup. Add mojo sauce.

1 ½ cups gofio (precooked corn meal)
3 cups boiling stock from the soup pot
Salt, to taste
Mojo verde (cilantro chili sauce, recipe here)
Sliced red onions
Vinegar

Place the gofio in a heatproof bowl. Stir in the boiling liquid. Stir until the mixture is fairly smooth, about the consistency of mashed potatoes. Add salt to taste.

Serve dribbled with mojo verde and red onions that have been salted and dressed with vinegar.

 

POTATOES---FROM THE CANARY ISLANDS TO LA RIOJA

Can you imagine life before potatoes? Unless your origin is, perhaps, Peruvian, there was such a time--hardly 500 years ago--when potatoes didn’t exist. No fries. No jacket potatoes. No mashed. No potatoes. Not in Ireland. Nowhere in Europe. Not in India, nor China. Not in North America.

It wasn’t until some 40 years after Columbus set sail from Spain that potatoes found their way to the Old World and, much later, back to the New World.

The potato is native to the high Andes regions, where the Indians were eating it as early as 3000 BC, although it was unknown through the rest of South and North America. It was “discovered” in Ecuador by one of Francisco Pizarro’s band of explorers, and brought  to Spain in 1534.

The potato was cultivated as a curiosity in monasteries, but, at first, hardly anyone dared eat it’s tuberous root. Related to poisonous nightshade, the potato was believed to be dangerous and, because it’s not mentioned in the Bible, ungodly. Nevertheless, potato eating spread widely in Europe amongst hungry people, who discovered the tuber easy to grow on poor soil. In Spain it soon displaced other starches such as dried chestnuts as sturdy addition to lentil and garbanzo stews.

It wasn’t until the famine of 1770, when Antoine Parmentier in France won a prize for a study showing how the potato could be the solution to famine, that the potato really gained culinary ground. Parmentier launched a heavy-duty public relations campaign promoting the potato.

There’s no record explaining how the potato got to Ireland, although some stories say it arrived there around 1586, possibly from ships of the Spanish Armada wrecked on the Irish coast. Much later it was Irish settlers who carried potatoes to North America. So, from the New World (South America) to the old, Spain, and back to the new.

In Spain potatoes are, after bread, the most favored food-stuff. Patatas fritas, Spanish fries, preferably fried in olive oil, are a standard side with the Spanish meal and, of course, potatoes are the essential ingredient for a Spanish tortilla.

While potato dishes are to be found in every region of Spain, the Canary Islands, the stopping-off point between the New World and continental Spain, are a veritable Garden of Eden of potatoes, with many heritage varieties still grown. .

Read my story about “wrinkly potatoes,” papas arrugadas, from the Canary Islands in this week’s LOS ANGELES TIMES food pages. Cooking in heavily salted water wrinkles the potato skins and leaves them with a light crusting of salt. They are delicious served with baked or grilled fish and Canary Island mojo sauces. (Click HERE for the story and follow the links for recipes.)

Here is a recipe for a potato dish from La Rioja, in northern Spain. A robust Rioja crianza, a red wine with a little time on oak, would go nicely with the potatoes.

Potatoes, La Rioja Style
Patatas a la Riojana

La Rioja cooks say you shouldn’t cut the potatoes with a knife, but rather cut them slightly, then break them into pieces. The rough broken surface releases more potato starch, which is what thickens the cooking liquid.

This dish can be served, instead of soup, as a starter or main dish.

Serves 4.

3 pounds mature baking potatoes, such as russets
¼ cup olive oil
1 onion, chopped
1 small green pepper, cut in 1-inch pieces
1 tablespoon pimentón (paprika)
pinch of cayenne
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups water
12 ounces chorizo sausage links, sliced


Peel the potatoes and cut and snap them into chunks of about 1 ½ -inch.

Heat the oil in a cazuela or heavy skillet and sauté the onion until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the potatoes and turn them in the oil for another 5 minutes. Add the green pepper, pimentón, cayenne, bay leaf, salt and water. Bring to a boil, then lower heat so potatoes cook gently for 10 minutes.

Add the chorizo to the potatoes and continue to cook for another 25 minutes, or until the potatoes are tender.

Let the dish rest for 10 minutes before serving. The cooking liquid should be thickened to a sauce consistency.