aMAIZEing experiment

On my way from work I stopped by Farmers Market to pick up some veggies for dinner. It was almost too late: vendors were packing their stuff up. As I hastily grabbed an eggplant and peas my eye caught something curious: ears of corn with kernels of different colors. I’ve seen such thing before–as Thanksgiving ornament but never as food. I turned it around in my hands: it was tough and dry.

“It’s called an Indian corn” the vendor intervened

“Do you know how to prepare it?”

“No, not really, but I heard you can grind it into corn flour”

But I wasn’t going to grind it. What I wanted to do is to cook it on the cob because I thought it would taste similar to the corn I had back home. The stuff they sell here is sweet. Indian corn, not being “cultivated” into another desert item, held promise of bringing back almost forgotten memories. And it was only a couple of bucks for the bunch of three.



So the experiment began. I decided not to consult the Internet on what you can do with purchased Indian corn in an urban kitchen, but rather truly give it a shot on my own.

The kernels were so dehydrated they were rock-solid and needed to be softened before cooking. So I’ve soaked them overnight in cold water. Next day, the kernels were still tough but softened enough to be broken in half when I bit into one. And although the inside was still dry I decided to start the process of boiling anyway–who knows, maybe it’ll never get completely hydrated.

It was boiling for a couple of hours. The kernels increased in size and their shell cracked. The water turned dark red, almost spooky. Finally, I turned the heat off, took a cob out and tried eating it. It was still really tough. I had to grind it with my teeth forever (what an irony: not wanting to grind it before I had to do it after with my own devices: teeth). It wasn’t very flavorful either. Disappointed, I mindlessly started to pick out kernels off the cob and they were popping out quite easily. I imagined Indian women sitting around in a circle taking kernels out and grinding them in mortars. New idea popped into my mind.

Well, I don’t have a mortar but I have blender and electricity. There was about a cup of kernels I just took out. When I turned the blender on it sounded like pop-corn being cooked in microwave. But it did do the job, although milling it didn’t produce fine flour but at least decent enough corn meal. Indians probably mixed it with just water but in my kitchen there was an egg and salt and garlic powder. It was time for some corn pancakes. I also had to add some bread crumbs to increase viscosity. It held rather well in the skillet and was ready in no time.

And the taste wasn’t bad either. Cakes were nicely browned to be crispy on the outside and had more distinctive corn flavor and were pretty filling as a meal. Not to say much easier on the teeth.

Somehow I felt better knowing that if I had to I could survive by grinding kernels and making it into a meal. In my mind I just got accepted into that circle of Indian women. This experiment was my right of passage (of sorts).