Too Hot to Cook: A Grilled Soup

While glorious, this run of spectacular July weather we’ve been having has brought its share of still, humid evenings. For the most part, there’s been a lovely breeze, but the other night was one of those times when the thought of boiling water for the corn—one of my favorite varieties, Temptation—made me wilt. Or turning on the stove generally. I love hot weather, cannot abide air conditioning, and begin to complain of the cold when the temperature drops below about 65, so if it is too hot for me, it is hot.
I’d been planning to make some corn chowder, and was about to give up the idea as too steamy when I thought, why not just grill it? Everything over a single outdoor fire, sort of like camping, but with sleeping inside. This seemed like a reasonable thing to do. After all, here in Rhode Island, and popular elsewhere, we grill pizzas, made famous by Al Forno restaurant. Yes, you’re thinking, but pizza is solid, and chowder is, let’s face it, liquid.
Ah, but the liquid is the final stage—sort of the reverse of grilled pizza, where the grilling is the final stage after preparing dough, sauce, and so on. For a grilled chowder, it seemed logical to grill all the ingredients and then add the liquids to them, in a pot set on the by-then moderate-heat grill. The depth of flavor, and the no muss, no fuss, of charcoal grilling--for a soup.
So I did that, and it turned out very well; I’ll do it again. I don’t take any particular credit, beyond the original desperate thought of how to avoid the stove: with fresh-picked corn and tomatoes, locally grown or produced chouriço, corn, garlic, and basil, and your own corn stock from inventory, you can’t really go wrong. Or as we say around here, what could be bad? As it turns out, absolutely nothing.
LCM Grilled Corn and Chouriço Chowder
Except for the basil garnish, this is cooked entirely on the grill. It makes for a summery but satisfying meal; nothing more is needed but a green salad or some buttered (and grilled, of course) common crackers. Serves 4.
¼ lb lean salt pork, rind removed 
½ lb (1 link) chicken chouriço, such as Sardinha’s
4 large ears of corn, shucked
½ large sweet onion, cut in two
2 large cloves garlic, from a head (see directions)
1 medium-large ripe tomato
2 ½ cups corn stock (see Note)
1 cup whole milk
¼ cup sour cream, plus more for garnish
¼ tea salt
4 twists of the pepper mill
Olive oil
About 8 large basil leaves
Prepare a medium-hot fire on the grill. Cut a square of aluminum foil large enough to hold the tomato, a head of garlic, and the onion. Brush the corn, garlic, onion, tomato, and meaty side of the salt pork lightly with the olive oil.
Put everything on the grill, placing the pork meat-side down. Quickly cook the vegetables, allowing them to char slightly but not to burn, turning them over to brown. Turn the chouriço once. After about 5 minutes, remove the corn, the salt pork, and the chouriço and set aside, and move the onion, garlic, and tomato to the square of foil. Put the lid on the grill to continue cooking until the vegetables can be pierced with a knife but still hold their shapes—i.e., the tomato should not collapse, the garlic should not ooze.
Cut the corn off the cobs, and slice the chouriço, breaking the slices apart with your fingers and discarding the skin that wants to come off. Slice the onion, and thinly slice 2 fat cloves of roasted garlic, reserving the rest for another use. Remove the skin and stem end from the tomato; cut it in half and gently fish out the seeds with a finger; and chop the tomato flesh roughly. Cut the salt pork into small dice.
Place a 3-qt chef’s or other open pan on the grill; use your flat palm to find a spot where the heat is medium to medium-low (alternatively, use your stove for this last stage, no more than a few minutes). Quickly toss the salt pork, chouriço, onion, and garlic in the pan, adding a teaspoon or so of olive oil if needed to prevent sticking. Add the stock, the corn, and the tomato, and season with the salt and pepper; move the pan to the coolest spot (or reduce the heat to low), and stir in the milk and the sour cream. As soon as the soup is hot through, remove it from the heat, taste it, and adjust the seasoning if necessary. Garnish with sour cream and finely cut basil.
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Note: As discussed in a post from last year (click the corn stock link above), I try to always have corn stock on hand; it's versatile and flavorful, and it is not much effort to throw a few cobs into water to make it. If you do not have it handy, though, you could use a very light, minimally salted chicken stock.

                                      

Lobster and the New Year: Last Hurrah

There is the blue lobster like the one owned by my local market—and their prior one, a taxidermied giant now gracing the wall near the check-out counters like a fantasy sculpture you’d see over the door of some dive with a name like “The Shipwreck Bar.” There is the equally fantastic, yet also real, two-toned lobster, vertically divided with hairline precision down its length, half-black, half red, the second one caught by one of my neighborhood purveyors, Sakonnet Lobster—a 1 in 50 million chance. And then there is the last lobster—of the year, that is.
For it’s not just the end of the year, it’s the end of lobster season. Come January, the vast majority of lobstermen pull their pots until spring, repairing them and their boats until the water warms enough to bring the lobsters, pretty much too cold to move from the bottom, back to the surface. Although they are scarce and therefore expensive—not that they are ever cheap—now is the time to have a fresh-caught lobster before they disappear for the winter months, and nothing is available but “held” lobsters, caught previously and kept in tanks or other special holding areas for who knows how long and under what conditions. Eating lobster, accompanied by its perfect match, champagne, seems a fitting way to send off both the year and the winter-torpored arthropod.
My favorite way to cook lobster is to grill it over charcoal, but the season, at least here, is not conducive to outdoor cooking. And maybe, just maybe, the preparation is a bit summery anyway; certainly boiled lobster with drawn butter doesn’t attract the way it does on the 4^th of July, when bright sun, a pile of steaming lobsters, drawn butter, lobster bibs, and wooden picnic tables overhanging the pier are akin to a holy tableau. You could bake and stuff your last lobster of the year, a favorite New England preparation, and certainly a warming one. But for New Year’s Eve, one must approach the uncertainty of the turning point in Time’s relentless march—will it be a good year? A bad year? A same old, same old year?--with the defiance, confidence, and dignity so well-represented by the luxurious splurge: lobster bisque and champagne. As you head into the unknown of 2008, only the best will do.
Jane’s LC Lobster-Corn Bisque
This soup is my Rhode Island variation on the classic French haute-cuisine lobster bisque, made with the addition of corn and simplifying the steps a little while preserving the intensity and fineness of the finished product. While not quite as complicated as the original, it still takes a bit of time; I suggest making it over two days, dealing with the lobsters one day, then actually preparing the soup the next. Westport Lobster in Westport, MA, was kind enough to provide me with scarily huge extra lobster carcasses for the stock. Ask your own lobster purveyor or fish market to save you some. If you do not have corn stock (shame on you!), you may substitute a light homemade chicken stock or use all lobster stock. Serves 6.
A 2# lobster
12 cups water
About 2-3 lbs lobster bodies (torsos)
2 large bay leaves
12 peppercorns
¼ tea red pepper flakes
6 sprigs parsley
6 sprigs cilantro
salt
4 T unsalted butter
2 large cloves garlic, minced
1 ½" piece fresh gingerroot, minced
½ large sweet onion, roughly chopped
1 large carrot, roughly chopped
1 large stalk celery, roughly chopped
1 ½ cups corn off the cob, thawed if frozen
¼ tea saffron, coupe grade
1 cup dry white wine
½ cup homemade plain tomato sauce or, if not on hand, imported ground tomatoes
1 quart corn stock, or use all lobster stock or light chicken stock
2 cups strong lobster stock
salt, pepper
3 T converted white rice
2 T cognac or brandy
¼ cup or more heavy cream
Reserved lobster meat for garnish
Chopped parsley for garnish
In a small stock pot or other pot of at least 16 cups capacity, boil the water and plunge the lobster in head-first, covering with the lid. Boil 15 minutes, remove the lobster with tongs to a colander (reserving the water), and rinse well with cold water. Cool until you can handle it, then remove and refrigerate the meat, reserving the body with the others (see Note).
Preheat oven to 400 F. Clean the lobster bodies of any tomalley, roe, and head sac (you may keep the tomalley for stirring into the soup, but I do not); place them into a buttered roasting pan and roast for about 40 minutes, or until they smell lobster-y. Add ½ cup of water to the hot pan to deglaze, then add the bodies and the deglazed liquid to the pot of lobster water, pressing them down to submerge as well as possible; add the bay leaves, peppercorns, pepper flakes, cilantro, and parsley. Bring to a boil, skim, and then reduce and simmer for about 2 hours. Near the end of the cooking time, add a little salt and taste. It should have a deep lobster flavor. Remove the bodies with tongs, letting them hang over the pot for a minute to drip their juices, and discard; you should have about 2 ½ quarts. Remove two cups broth and freeze the rest for future soups or chowders. At this point you can either proceed or refrigerate the 2 cups broth, covered, until next day.
In a Dutch oven or other pot of at least 16 cups capacity, melt 3 T of the butter. Add all the aromatics and vegetables except for the corn and cook over moderately high heat, stirring so they don’t scorch, for about 8-10 minutes, or until the vegetables are brown. Add the corn and the other T of butter and cook, stirring, for about 5-6 minutes. Dissolve the saffron in the wine and add to the pot along with the tomato sauce; let it boil 2-3 minutes.
Add the corn and lobster stocks to the pot (6 cups total). Bring to a boil, skim the foam from the edges, and reduce and simmer, lid ajar, for 1 ½ hours. Add a large pinch of salt and a few twists from the pepper mill; taste and correct seasoning. Add the rice and simmer for an additional 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Using a food processor or an immersion blender, puree the broth and vegetable mixture. Strain through a conical strainer (a “China cap”) or other fine sieve into a 3 qt saucepan. Refrigerate until serving time.
To serve: Reheat the pureed soup base over medium heat. Heat and ignite the cognac, and pour it into the soup. Stir in the heavy cream; this is one of the unusual instances where less is more. Serve in shallow bowls (the classic is a white two-handled cup or shallow, rimmed dish), garnished with the reserved fresh lobster meat and a little finely chopped parsley or other compatible herb. Don’t forget the champagne.
Note: In Rhode Island, as along most of the New England coast, children learn how to remove the meat from a lobster before they know how to tie their shoes. If you are, as they say, “not from here,” you can follow these directions. I use minimal water when making stocks; just cram the bodies into the pan, crushing the shells down if needed.

August Corn: Phase II, Corn Stock

Long in the habit of making stocks with the odd carcass or limp vegetable, it was a short step from regarding a pile of corn cobs, shorn of their golden kernels in the interests of corn fritters but still fresh and moist, to tossing them into a stock pot. They were, after all, a kind of boney skeleton, and their network of cells contained a milky marrow of its own. In the waste not, want not spirit in which I do everything in the kitchen, spurred by visions of my grandmother refrigerating a few tablespoons of leftover spinach, I thought, why not?


Corn stock, it turns out, is so good and so useful that it is its own excuse—as if one were needed—for eating corn off the cob. Over the 15 or so years that I’ve been making it, I’ve found that it makes wonderful soups, including very good versions of tortellini in brodo and tortilla soup in addition to the more obvious corn chowder. It adds intense flavor to polenta, and makes a nice substitute for shrimp stock in shrimp Creole. Anywhere you would use chicken stock, or even water, consider whether corn stock would serve as well or better.

Corn stock is a great inventory item for the freezer, and during the ‘tween months, corn risotto with new asparagus is a lovely harbinger of summer. Now, as summer wanes and cool evenings begin, risotto with summer vegetables, including the corn cut off the cob to make the stock, makes another fine transitional, but still light, meal.

To make corn stock: Cover a dozen corn cobs with 10 cups of water. Add half of a large onion, unpeeled and cut into two pieces, and nothing more. Resist the temptation to throw in carrots, or celery, or herbs and spices: you want only the essence of corn. Bring to a boil and reduce the heat, leaving the lid ajar, to medium-low, or enough to keep a steady, slow boil going. Cook for about an hour, or until it has a sweet, pure taste of corn. Do not salt. If you are going to use it within two days, refrigerate it; otherwise, freeze the stock in pint or quart containers. Makes about 6 cups.

Golden Risotto


End of summer brings lots of yellow: golden zucchini, yellow peppers, yellow tomatoes, and corn itself. Combine them all, touched with a little saffron, to make this sunny, refined risotto. Use all butter as indicated, and don’t over-season. This should have a full but delicate flavor. Serves 6.






3 T unsalted butter
2 T minced shallot
1 cup sweet yellow pepper (about 1 medium)
1 ½ cups sweet corn off the cob, preferably yellow or bicolor (about 3 ears)
1 cup golden zucchini (about 1 medium)
½ tea salt
1/8 tea white pepper

3 T unsalted butter
¼ cup finely minced sweet onion
2 cups Arborio or Carnaroli rice
¼ cup dry white (non-oaky) wine
5-6 cups corn stock
¼ tea Spanish saffron, preferably coupe grade
¼ tea salt
¾ cup freshly grated Italian parmesan

A little chopped flat-leaf parsley (optional)
A little chopped yellow tomato (optional)
Additional grated parmesan

Prepare and cook the vegetables: Trim the pepper, remove the seeds and veins, cut into ¼” strips, then cut cross-wise into ¼ inch dice. If you have not reserved some corn when making stock, cut the kernels off of three ears. Trim the ends from the zucchini and cut it in half lengthwise. Scoop out the seeds with a spoon, then, cut side down, cut the zucchini into ¼” strips and cut cross-wise into ¼” dice. In a small frying pan, melt the butter over medium-high heat and add the shallots, letting them foam up, and sauté for a few minutes. Reduce the heat to medium. In the order listed, add the vegetables one by one, cooking about 2 minutes after each addition, being careful not to brown them. Stir in the salt and pepper, and set aside.

Make the risotto: In a saucepan, heat the stock until steam rises; keep it just warm, without a ripple. In a 3- or 4- quart pan, preferably with sloped sides, melt the butter over medium heat and sauté the onion until transparent. Reduce the heat to medium-low, and add the rice and toss it around in the butter to coat well, 2 or 3 minutes. Add the white wine and cook until it is absorbed/evaporates. Add a ladle-full of stock and cook until absorbed; the stock and rice should simmer gently. Repeat, adding a ladle of stock at a time, until the rice is nearly cooked, about 20 minutes. Crush the saffron between your fingers and stir it into the rice, together with the ¼ tea of salt. Add a little more stock and cook until the rice is tender, loose, and creamy, about 25 minutes total. In the last minute or so of cooking, stir in about ¾ of the reserved vegetable mixture and the parmesan. Turn out into a bowl, garnish with the remaining cooked vegetables, the tomato and parsley if using, and additional parm. Serve immediately.