Corn is going to kill us all.

I read the first 83 pages of Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma. I watched Fed Up. I’ve seen Children of the Corn. I get it. We started growing butt-tons of corn in this country because it’s profitable and supported by government subsidies and it can be used to make sugars that add flavor to pretty much everything from Coca-Cola to Toothpaste. It’s the only vegetable that can rot your teeth and fix them at the same time. Take that, Broccoli. Unfortunately these corn sugars are giving us all kinds of diseases according to men in white lab coats somewhere. It’s all probably true, but guess what?

I don’t care.

Corn tastes great. Corn on the cob is delicious, even if it takes 10 feet of floss to feel like a normal human being after eating it. Corned Beef is fantastic, and I don’t think it has anything to do with corn, but whatever. Cornbread is the only reason to go to Cracker Barrel. That and the friendly service, home-style cooking, and giant game of rug checkers you can play while waiting for your cornbread. The golf tee game is cool too. Maybe I don’t hate Cracker Barrel*.

Soup is also going to kill us all.

Canned soup is full of salt, preservatives and additives that are poisoning us all from the inside. It’s drying us out and turning us into human jerky for the aliens to eat when they arrive. Andy Warhol’s later Campbell’s Soup Cans work had all those odd and vibrant colors because he’d eaten too much soup during research and the additives were affecting his vision and perception of reality. It’s all probably true, but guess what?

I don’t care.

My coworkers once gave me 24 cans of Healthy Choice Soup for my birthday, accompanied by a card that said “Have a Soup-er Day.” That gift was practical, unexpected, delicious and quite possibly the best gift I’ve ever received. Well, maybe Spider-Man socks. I guess I’m easily impressed.

This week I decided to combine these two forces plotting my demise, and make “The Best Corn Chowder” (Page 212). The best seems a little strong. Why can’t we just call it what it is? This week I made “Hot Milk and Corn Death Water” (Page 212).

After my trip to the grocery store, where I discovered that Coriander costs more per ounce than crack cocaine, I sat down to investigate the secrets of Corn Chowder in The Food Lab. The most important factor is fresh corn, preferably bought directly from the farmer. It’s February. My corn is wrapped in plastic. It most likely came off an Iowa farm in early-September. This would be before the farmer, who I’m supposed to somehow have a relationship with and buy my corn from, had any idea of the highs and lows his Iowa Hawkeyes would take him through this college football season. Spoiler alert Mr. Farmer, you end up disappointed, just like I am in myself and my poor plastic-wrapped corn before I even start cooking.

After cutting the corn off the cob, and in the process scattering it across my kitchen I was directed to, “Milk the corn.” It’s not a euphemism. I don’t know how to milk corn, because milking corn is not a thing. So I squeezed the corn over a pot, and scraped at it with the back of a knife until the corn juice (I don’t know much, but I know it’s not milk) started to flow.

Corn juice, corn cobs, bay leaf, coriander, fennel and stock all go into one pan and are turned up to a boil. While that pot is heating up I prepare the onions, garlic, salt pork and potatoes. The potatoes present an issue, as I don’t own a potato peeler. I try to tackle the situation with a pairing knife, and in the process one potato ends up on the ground, mashed, mangled and screaming for life. I was prepared for this disaster with a back-up potato. My confidence in my cooking skills is so low I bought an extra potato, simply because I knew I would screw up at least one of them. Is that intelligent or sad? I’ll leave that distinction up to the jury.

I melt butter and cook the salt pork in another giant pot. Salt pork is bacon for people who look at bacon and think, “It’s good, but could use more fat and salt.” I was going to make fun of those people until I tasted the salt pork. I am now one of those people.

Once the fat has rendered (which is fancy cook language for melted) I add the corn, onions and garlic and coat everything in the delicious butter/salt pork fat mixture. I start to realize that I appreciate this style of cooking more than the quick-searing meats. It’s much more paced, almost Zen. I begin to feel enlightened. Maybe cooking isn’t so bad? I open my inner eye to the glory of the soup, and it’s time to add the stewed stock mixture to the pork pot through a fine mesh strainer.

 

Back in reality, I don’t own a fine mesh strainer. This is not Zen. I Frankenstein together a colander and a coffee filter and hope for the best. It works, but like a coffee pot, takes time. Luckily this is soup, we have all the time in the world. I rediscover my peaceful center.

10 minutes later it’s time to add the most important ingredient, half-and-half. We haven’t skimped out on fat thus far, and we’re not stopping now. The entire concept behind this recipe is that it’s supposed to kill me eventually. I stare in death’s face unafraid and drown the sucker in half-and-half.

The butter and the rest of the soup have separated like a traveling salesman and his wife. Kenji has a solution, soup meet blender. I am skeptical. I don’t think I’ve ever used the blender for anything other than a milkshake. Plus, with my track record there’s no way that this doesn’t end with the neighborhood coated in a thin layer of corn chowder.

It worked, and spectacularly so.

I scoop out a bowl, chop up a scallion and prepare for my death cocktail.

It’s staggeringly good. I don’t care what those bastards in white lab coats say about corn and soup and climate change, this is worth it. If I die, I want to do so covered in corn, like a true American. Every single bite of The Best Corn Chowder brings me closer to my impending doom, and I’ll go there gladly.

As long as they have corn chowder when I get there.

Recipe 3/3

Did I do the Dishes? Yes

*Promotional consideration definitely not provided by Cracker Barrel, but if they’re offering, I’m listening.