Corn On The Brain
July 16, 2006 – 6:21 pmJust call me Colonel Cornelius Cobb. I’ve got corn on the brain, and I’ve got it bad. Summer makes me silly for corn. I went running and flailing naked through this corn field near Jastrebarsko a few weeks ago so I could feel the tassles a-tickling and get myself stinky with corn. I mistakenly believed that perfuming myself with the essence of young cobs and stalks in the field might stave off my corn yen, perhaps even curing me of my corn-dition. Alas, my sky-clad skedaddle was rewarded instead with an hour of fire-on-the-skin. Something bit me, and I thought for sure I’d been injected by a Balkan corn scorpion. Blessed integumentary infarction, it’s not for nothing that they call ‘em stinging nettles! Stinging nettles like to live around corn, apparently. Actually, I don’t blame those nettles, because I like living around corn as well. I’d tell you about the fresh sheep’s milk cheese with stinging nettles I had in Istria a few months ago, but we’re on corn today. Let’s keep on corn.
The sun visits sweetness upon the corn, photosynthesizing the sugars within each and every kernel. (photo by Kornelija Sakač)
With a smile on his face and a song in his heart, the Chief Cornman of Zagreb has the ladies aglow and atitter from his corny patter. Corn is common as a street treat in Croatia in the summer. You can find soft-boiled corn as you see here…
…but you can also get your cob fried or dry-roasted. This cornmonger in Split is a dry-roaster of a man.
Perhaps you know of that all-American breakfast staple, Cream of Wheat? Here’s Cream of Corn! Once simmered simply with cinnamon, nutmeg and vanilla sugar, a whopping plop of this cooked corn flour was slung bowlward, then glazed with butter and chestnut honey from Samobor (I’ll have a detailed analysis of the enchanting honey wine from that locale in the future).
I know the O’Lympics are a ways off, but here’s a corn discus. It is polenta with sauteed garden vegetables: cabbage, sweet red peppers, leeks, onions and chard. I later sliced wedges of this and pan-fried them to the cliched golden brown. A-maize-ing! (ouch.)
Corn has a sexy encounter with sour cream and chives as Pennsylvania Dutch corn pancakes:
Some of my Croatian friends tell it that corn tastes best when it is stolen from an unguarded field and stealthily roasted over an impromptu fire nearby. I don’t understand how thieving affects the flavor, and being a guest in this country I’m a little reluctant to taste stolen corn… but perhaps I’ll report on an upcoming swindle-and-sizzle if I can get close enough. I did dutifully inform these friends that corn is a mainstay and foundation of the aboriginal American diet, and that Americans of every race, creed and gender enjoy all manner of corn delicacies.
I said, “Croatians and Americans have corn in common.” It became apparent from their facial responses that my wording was slightly idiomatic, so I changed gears.
“America and Croatia share corn.”
Nope.
“Between America and Croatia, there is corn.”
Foiled again.
I enjoyed a dubious victory with “Everybody eats corn.”
They smiled slight, sideways smiles and nodded in approval (or apprehension, I’m not sure which). One of them went so far as to remark, “I would very much like to see the great corn fields of America.” I offered that they are a magnificent and mesmerizing sight, and that when we’re all in America together, I’d take them for a drive across the great corn-producing state of Iowa.
Now, I’ve been asked about ‘typical American food’ in Croatia on a number of occasions. “What is the most truly and historically American dish?” my friends have asked, and I’ve spent far too many hours in torment since, pondering the question with fisted chin and furrowed brow while normal people sleep. I’m not sure how to answer without actually cooking American food for them. As with the food of any nation, one needs to have a focused gander at the bewildering miasma of cultural and historical influences that shape the diet of the people. I told these friends that I will be happy to prepare for them an all-American favorite from fresh corn, and their eyes lit up with wonder and anticipation.
“Tamale?” they asked, “What is ‘tamale‘?”
I intend to show them a proper old-school cornhusk tamale from America’s colorfully stratified southwest. Corn is damn important as far as American food history is concerned. America’s culinary heritage essentially begins with corn… and then there was Thanksgiving and the whole thing spiralled downward to Applebee’s.
Thanksgiving is on the way (it always is), and I suppose I’m partially obligated to cook a full-blown American turkey feast in Croatia. I have learned of a farmer who is raising one of Croatia’s very first sweet potato crops, and the oysters of Mali Ston would make a nice stuffing, methinks. What about cranberries? Can you get fresh cranberries in Croatia without having to bribe someone? As some would relate, I’m not so sure you can even get a university degree there without bribing someone.
