Black Bean and Corn Salsa Recipe

Black bean  salsa/A Cook and Her Books

I’m sure I’m not the only who finds themselves hummin’ a little Gershwin in these sultry late spring days. After the trees leaf out, but before the tree frogs start their thrumming, a chorus of “Summertime, and the livin’ is easy, fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high…” plays through my head. The song, as I’m sure you know, is from George Gerswhin’s Great American Opera, “Porgy and Bess,” set in sweltering summery Charleston. The songs are grand and glorious and so infectious that I tend to forget that I’m not exactly Jessye Norman when it comes to musical ability.

And yes, I do know all of the words, and I will sing them off-key at the drop of any hat.

Here’s a summertime recipe, a little salsa that I put together with ingredients from my pantry and the farmer’s market ~ canned black beans, fresh tomatoes and corn make for an easy and delicious salsa that can be a snack, or on a sultry summer evening with the proper beverage, a meal.

Bean and Corn Salsa

1 can black beans, drained

3 or 4 tomatoes, chopped, or 1 can fire roasted diced tomatoes

3 or 4 scallions, chopped

Kernels scraped from 1 ear corn

1 clove garlic, minced

2 sweet mini peppers, chopped

1 jalapeno, seeds & membranes removed, chopped

Juice of 1/2 lemon or 1 lime

Salt and pepper to taste

Cilantro, chopped, optional

One avocado, diced, optional

1.       Combine all ingredients. Adjust seasonings and serve with tortilla chips. Refrigerate leftovers.

Sufferin' Succotash

Summer vegetable soup with the flavors of succotash. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

 Or maybe I should say “Thufferin’ thuccotash!” in honor of Thylvethter, one of my favorite Thaturday morning cartoon characters? (Thorry.)

In these days of 24/7 cartoon networks and kids’ programming, the ritual of Saturday morning cartoons is lost. My kids can’t believe that I grew up with less than a dozen t.v. channels and that cartoons only came on Saturday mornings, ending with “Kukla, Fran and Ollie” at noon, then it was time for lunch and being rushed out of the house by my mom. “Go ride your bikes!” “Go see your friends!” we were admonished. (and we obeyed.)

This summer, we took the girls to Saturday morning cartoons at the Fox Theatre in Atlanta, a Looney Tunes festival, and my girls were introduced to Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Sylvester, Tweety Bird, Yosemite Sam, the Martian and all the gang. Sitting on the balcony, watching the Merrie Melodies reels, I wish I had worn my p.j.’s and brought my favorite blankie. 

And now in September, summer is persisting and so has the harvest. Before the markets are overtaken with cool-weather greens and winter squashes, I’m putting everything together in a soup. This summer vegetable soup is based on a recipe given to me by my friend Julie. Her mother makes it every summer with homegrown tomatoes, corn, okra and butter beans. I started off the same, but switched out the okra for green beans. The combination of tomatoes, corn and lima beans made me think of succotash. Cheers, Sylvester!

Summer vegetable soup with pimento cheese sandwiches. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Succotash Soup (Summer Vegetable Soup)

Peeling and seeding tomatoes is a pain in the patootie, but it really improves the final soup. After all, you’ll probably only make this soup once a year, when the last of the summer tomatoes are filling up your kitchen counter. It may seem odd to add the cobs to the soup pot, but my feeling is the cobs will give up the last of their corniness to the soup. Just skip the step if you think it’s weird.

2 tablespoons butter

1 onion, peeled and chopped into ¼ inch dice

8 ripe tomatoes

2 ears of corn

½ pound green beans, washed, trimmed and cut into 1-inch lengths

½ pound butter beans, shelled (I used frozen)

Water

Salt and pepper to taste

 
1.       In a soup pot over medium heat, melt butter and add onion. Add a pinch of salt and stir until onions are softened.
2.       Meanwhile, put a pot of water on to boil and have ready a bowl of ice water in order to peel and seed the tomatoes. Have a third bowl ready with a mesh strainer placed over it. Cut an X into the bottom of each tomato and place in the boiling water, being careful not to crowd the pot. After a minute or two, place the tomatoes in the ice water. Repeat until all tomatoes have been blanched. Using a sharp paring knife, peel the tomatoes, then slice in half ,and over the bowl with the mesh strainer, squeeze out the seeds. Use your knife and fingers to finesse the remaining seeds out of the tomato flesh. Chop the remaining tomato flesh into ½ inch dice and place in soup pot with onion. Add the strained tomato juice to the soup pot and discard the seeds.
3.       For the corn, when shucking the corn, be sure to remove all visible silks. Place the cob horizontally on the cutting board and working on each side, shave the kernels off the cob. Rotate cob to get all the kernels off the cob. Stand the cob upright and use the back of the knife to scrape the remaining corn juice off the cob. Place corn in soup pot. Use your hands to snap the cobs into 2 pieces and add to soup pot.
4.       Add green beans and butter beans to soup pot, followed by enough water to cover, usually about 1 cup or more. Cook for 30 minutes. Remove the corn cobs from the soup. Taste the soup for seasoning and adjust. Butter may be added to each serving for additional richness. Store leftovers in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

Text and images copyright 2012, Lucy Mercer.

 For more ways to use up the last of the summer tomatoes, see:

Pasta with Fresh Tomato Sauce

Incredible roasted vegetables (Briami)
Tomato Gravy & Biscuits

My Granddaddy's skillet fried corn with bacon

Skillet fried corn with bacon. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

 I've dusted off this post as part of #Letslunch, a monthly Twitter party. The June subject is Dads ~ I took some liberty with the subject, given that it's my Dad's Dad I'm writing about. My own father is famous for cooking bacon and egg sandwiches, fudge using the recipe on the side of the marshmallow creme jar, and fried Vienna sausages. Happy Father's Day!

One of the distinctive characteristics of living in the New South, cookie-cutter suburban Atlanta, is that the Old South, the rural, hardscrabble life that James Agee and others wrote about is never far from view. Reminders can be as vivid as the tar paper shack I drive by on the carpool run - rusted refrigerators and livestock in the yard, enclosed with a barbed wire fence. Or it can be the cast iron skillet that I keep on my cooktop, ready to fry up a pan of corn the way my granddaddy did. Used to be every family had a cast iron skillet, just as dear and useful as a family bible.

Cast iron skillet with corn. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

I wish I could say that my seasoned cast iron skillet is an heirloom handed down through the generations. The truth is, as a newlywed 20 years ago, I paid $20 bucks at Wal-Mart for a Lodge chicken fryer skillet - it's a little bit deeper than a standard skillet, seasoned to a midnight black patina. I keep it on the stovetop so it's handy for vegetable sautes, tomato gravy, pineapple upside-down cakes and biscuits. (I save chicken frying for my enamel cast iron Dutch oven - less splatter.) And fried corn. This is not deep-fried corn, just the Southern term for fresh corn cooked in bacon fat, thickened with flour and seasoned with cracked black pepper.

Now, my family loves roasted ears of corn on the cob and I've been known to turn out a corn salad or two, but if I'm going to write about what's true in my heart, I have to tell you that the best corn I ever ate and later learned to cook was the skillet fried corn turned out by my paternal grandfather in Alabama. I guess I can say that Granddaddy was an ornery old cuss - a grumpy old man who handed out Kennedy half dollars to his grandkids before settling in his recliner with a Bud in his hand, ready for an afternoon of Auburn football.

Well, that’s one memory, I do have another, better remembrance - Granddaddy cooking fried corn in his cast iron skillet. Each summer the extended family would gather for a meal in the dining room of the house in Birmingham, grateful to escape the Alabama heat and ready for a feast. The oval, cherrywood dining table would be covered in a white linen cloth and loaded with the platters and bowls of Grandmother's bone china. The menu was the same for each gathering - sliced ham, sliced tomatoes with mayonnaise, potato salad, devilled eggs (Hellmann's mayonnaise being something of a religion in my family), green beans cooked with ham, and Granddaddy's skillet fried corn. The corn, creamy white and rich with bacon fat, was pretty much my favorite thing on the plate. I remember once my mom asking Granddaddy how he made his fried corn and he smiled, actually smiled, and said you gotta use white corn, what folks called field corn, and a cast iron skillet.

 When I eat my granddaddy's skillet fried corn, I can’t help but think of the Gudger family in James Agee’s “Let Us Now Praise Famous Men” - the sharecropper family in rural southern Alabama in 1936. Their house smelled of “corn and lard” and when I fix my own version of this dish, I remember the families whose lives depended on corn, for their livestock and themselves. My grandfather wasn’t a sharecropper, but he came from humble beginnings, and I guess he knew a thing or two about putting together a belly-filling meal on the fly.

Skillet Fried Corn with Bacon

I make this in summer, and I try to use a variety of corn - yellow and white. Gardeners will tell you that Silver Queen is the best, so if you see it, be sure to bring it home.

4 slices bacon

6 ears corn, shucked

½ medium onion, chopped

2 tablespoons flour

Water, about a cup, maybe more

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. In a cast iron skillet, fry bacon until crispy. There are two ways to accomplish this: 1. Messy: on stovetop, fry for about 20 minutes. 2. Not so messy: in 350° oven for about 25 minutes. When bacon is crispy, set bacon strips on paper towels to drain and pour bacon grease into metal container.

2. While bacon is cooking, prepare corn. Remove the corn from the cob thusly - hold cob upright and with a sharp knife held parallel to the cutting board, cut the kernels off one “side.” Place cob horizontally with the flat, cut side on the cutting board and slice off kernels, rotating cob. Do not discard cobs - you will use them in a minute. 

 

3. Place skillet over medium heat and add two tablespoons bacon grease to pan. Add onion and saute until softened. Add flour and cook for a couple of minutes. Toss corn kernels in pan and saute. Take each cob and hold upright in the center of skillet. With the back of your knife, scrape the corn “cream” into the pan. Now you can discard the cobs. Stir.

4. Add water slowly to pan while you stir, until you get the desired consistency. I prefer thicker but some may like it thinner, like a chunky gravy.

5. Crumble bacon and stir into pot or top individual servings.

Text and images © 2010, Lucy Mercer.

"Let Us Now Praise Famous Men" is by James Agee with photographs by Walker Evans and published by Houghton Mifflin. It's a challenging read (at least for me), but if you love the South and the English language and compelling photography, it will reward.

Check out these additional posts from the #letslunch crew:

Here’s a great way to see the round up on Pinterest by Emma, thanks for doing that!

Aleana‘s Homemade Scottish Oatcakes at Eat My Blog

Charissa‘s Grilled Rib-Eye Steaks & Uncle Andy’s Chimichurri Sauce at Zest Bakery

Eleanor‘s Salmon Bok Choy Soup at Wok Star

Emma‘s Ham and Rice at Dreaming of Pots & Pans

Jill‘s Root Beer-Glazed Onion Dip at Eating My Words

Grace‘s Taste of Diversity at HapaMama

Linda‘s Sesame-Ginger Chicken Wings at Spice Box Travels

Lisa‘s Hot Sugary Lip-Smacking Jam Donuts at Monday Morning Cooking Club

Patricia‘s Egg Candy at The Asian Grandmother’s Cookbook

Rashda‘s Beth Howard’s Apple Pie at Hot Curries & Cold Beer

Sonja‘s Spicy Smoked Paprika Lamb Shank Goulash at Foodnutzz

 Text and images copyright 2012, Lucy Mercer.

Tyler Florence on How to Cook

Food Network Chef Tyler Florence cooks for the crowd at Macy's Lenox Square.

Nuggets of cooking wisdom and philosophy from Food Network chef Tyler Florence from his recent cooking demonstration at Macy's Lenox Square:

"When I cook, I like to make things as pure and as clean as possible. I want a potato to taste like a potato."

And for corn to taste like corn - this is his method for cooking fresh corn. I'm sorry to post this just as the summer corn is ending, but keep it in mind for future ears.

It's a very simple recipe, just roast corn in the husk, piled up on a baking sheet in a 350 degree oven until your kitchen smells like warm corn. The silks and husk enhance the corn flavor and steam the kernels in their own packages.

Want to know what Tyler Florence thinks? Here are the rest of the Tyler stories:

1. Tyler Florence on his mission.

2. Tyler on Southern Food favorites.

3. Tyler on why he won't be your Facebook friend.

4. Tyler on his new book coming out in October.

5. Tyler on dining out in America today

Uptown Sweet Corn Soup

I'm a fan of all things summer and this year, all things corn. Corn fritters, corn cakes, Granddaddy's bacon fried corn, corn on the cob, roasted corn, need I go on? All have made an appearance in my kitchen this past month. Looking for a recipe for corn soup, a friend sent me a first-class recipe from Atlanta restaurant 4th and Swift. I cannot believe that it calls for 10 ears of corn - that is intensely cornular. I'm going to gather up all the CSA and farmer's market corn that I can find and make this amazing soup. 

4^th and Swift’s Summer Sweet Corn Soup
with Lump Crab, Chives and Old Bay

10 ears of sweet yellow corn

1 Vidalia onion, peeled and finely diced

3 teaspoons vegetable oil

About 1 quart vegetable or chicken stock

1 cup heavy cream

Salt and pepper to taste

Garnish: lump crabmeat, fresh chives, creme fraiche, Old Bay seasoning

1. Remove corn kernels from cob and with the back of the knife, scrape the cobs to release the corn "cream." Discard the cob.

2. Bring a large sauce pan or frying pan to low to medium heat and add oil. Sauté the corn and onions  but do not allow to brown. Cook for four minutes.

3. Add half the stock and bring to a simmer. Turn off and let it cool down a bit.

4. Scoop most of the corn into a blender with a ladle and add more stock if too thick. Fill blender to below fill line, approximately half way. This may require two batches, depending on the size of your blender.

5. Add heavy cream, place the top on the blender and cover with a towel. Carefully pulse on low at first to get started safely, then puree at high speed until velvety smooth.

6. Strain soup, return to stove, bring to simmer and serve. Garnish with jumbo lump crab, fresh cut chives, a dollop of crème fraiche and a sprinkle of Old Bay seasoning. 

Granddaddy's Cast-Iron Skillet Fried Corn



Corn by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books



One of the distinctive characteristics of living in the New South, cookie-cutter suburban Atlanta, is that the Old South, the rural, hardscrabble life that James Agee and others wrote about is never far from view. Reminders can be as vivid as the tar paper shack I drive by on the carpool run - rusted refrigerators and livestock in the yard, enclosed with a barbed wire fence. Or it can be the cast iron skillet that I keep on my cooktop, ready to fry up a pan of corn the way my granddaddy did. Used to be every family had a cast iron skillet, just as dear and useful as a family bible.

I wish I could say that my seasoned cast iron skillet is an heirloom handed down through the generations.  The truth is, as a newlywed 20 years ago, I paid $20 bucks at Wal-Mart for a Lodge chicken fryer skillet - it's a little bit deeper than a standard skillet, seasoned to a midnight black patina. I keep it on the stovetop so it's handy for vegetable sautes, tomato gravy, pineapple upside-down cakes and biscuits. (I save chicken frying for my enamel cast iron Dutch oven - less splatter.) And fried corn. This is not deep-fried corn, just the Southern term for fresh corn cooked in bacon fat, thickened with flour and seasoned with cracked black pepper.

Now, my family loves roasted ears of corn on the cob and I've been known to turn out a corn salad or two, but if I'm going to write about what's true in my heart, I have to tell you that the best corn I ever ate and later learned to cook was the skillet fried corn turned out by my paternal grandfather in Alabama. I guess I can say that Granddaddy was an ornery old cuss - a grumpy old man who handed out Kennedy half dollars to his grandkids before settling in his recliner with a Bud in his hand, ready for an afternoon of Auburn football.

Well, that’s one memory, I do have another, better remembrance -  Granddaddy cooking fried corn in his cast iron skillet. Each summer the extended family would gather for a meal in the dining room of the house in Birmingham, grateful to escape the Alabama heat and ready for a feast. The oval, cherrywood dining table would be covered in a white linen cloth and loaded with the platters and bowls of Grandmother's bone china. The menu was  the same for each gathering - sliced ham, sliced tomatoes with mayonnaise, potato salad, devilled eggs (Hellmann's mayonnaise being something of a religion in my family), green beans cooked with ham, and Granddaddy's skillet fried corn. The corn, creamy white and rich with bacon fat, was pretty much my favorite thing on the plate. I remember once my mom asking Granddaddy how he made his fried corn and he smiled, actually smiled, and said you gotta use white corn, what folks called field corn, and a cast iron skillet.

Corn and cast iron skillet by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

When I eat my granddaddy's skillet fried corn, I can’t help but think of the Gudger family in James Agee’s “Let Us Now Praise Famous Men” - the sharecropper family in rural southern Alabama in 1936. Their house smelled of “corn and lard” and when I fix my own version of this dish, I remember the families whose lives depended on corn, for their livestock and themselves. My grandfather wasn’t a sharecropper, but he came from humble beginnings, and I guess he knew a thing or two about putting together a belly-filling meal on the fly.

Skillet-fried corn with bacon by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Skillet Fried Corn with Bacon

I make this in summer, and I try to use a variety of corn - yellow and white. Gardeners will tell you that Silver Queen is the best, so if you see it, be sure to bring it home.

4 slices bacon

6 ears corn, shucked

½ medium onion, chopped

2 tablespoons flour

Water, about a cup, maybe more

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. In a cast iron skillet, fry bacon until crispy. There are two ways to accomplish this: 1. Messy: on stovetop, fry for about 20 minutes. 2. Not so messy: in 350° oven for about 25 minutes. When bacon is crispy, set bacon strips on paper towels to drain and pour bacon grease into metal container.

2. While bacon is cooking, prepare corn. Remove the corn from the cob thusly - hold cob upright and with a sharp knife held parallel to the cutting board, cut the kernels off one “side.” Place cob horizontally with the flat, cut side on the cutting board and slice off kernels, rotating cob. Do not discard cobs - you will use them in a minute.

Cutting corn by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

3. Place skillet over medium heat and add two tablespoons bacon grease to pan. Add onion and saute until softened. Add flour and cook for a couple of minutes. Toss corn kernels in pan and saute. Take each cob and hold upright in the center of skillet. With the back of your knife, scrape the corn “cream” into the pan. Now you can discard the cobs. Stir.

4. Add water slowly to pan while you stir, until you get the desired consistency. I prefer thicker but some may like it thinner, like a chunky gravy.

5. Crumble bacon and stir into pot or top individual servings.

Text and images © 2010, Lucy Mercer.

"Let Us Now Praise Famous Men" is by James Agee with photographs by Walker Evans and published by Houghton Mifflin. It's a challenging read (at least for me), but if you love the South and the English language and compelling photography, it will reward.