Careful observation of the world yields all sorts of wonder. In the past three days alone I’ve seen three lion’s mane jellyfish, one brilliant orange-colored bird the size of a swallow, and four blossoming trees with pink flowers the size of tea saucers.
The jellyfish are a prized—yet dreaded—sighting. Discovering their crimson bodies pulsating as they bob near the surface of the water, the long translucent strands of their tentacles trailing behind them, means no swimming for a bit. They look deceptively beautiful considering the damage they can inflict.
Further research reveals that the orange bird was likely some species of oriole—a sight I might have missed had I not been looking up at the high branches of a tree at the precise right moment, a bright scrap of tangerine wing catching my eye. The blossoming trees, I think, are hibiscus.
I’ve watched yeast dough rise, turning pillowy and airy as it bubbles and doubles in size, a small miracle I never tire of witnessing.
This is what I’ve seen. What I’ve felt: the same dough beneath my hands, pliable and smooth as I press it into a fat rectangle, then spread with a sandy cinnamon sugar mixture and roll up into a log. Each spiral slice is flipped on its side and baked right on a baking sheet, allowing them to balloon and spread into comically oversized cinnamon rolls. (More on this recipe soon—a new one!)
Other sensations.
The tension in my upper arms, growing stronger and tanner with each passing day spent on my paddleboard (and, let’s not forget, hoisting a baby around for hours). After windy mornings, my shoulders boast a delicious soreness—that distinctive aching burn that comes with building muscle.
Exhaustion, sometimes, but brief and fleeting. It usually hits around the low valley of the mid-afternoon, but it’s no longer the bone-deep, all-consuming tiredness that feels like a dully warm liquid coursing through my veins.
Sleek, satiny strands of corn silk as I shuck off the husks. Wedged between the fat golden kernels of corn, they cling to my fingers as I rub them off, then abandon the effort and accept (as always) that you’ll just eat them. (Does anyone know some wildly clever way to remove it, short of rubbing and praying?)
Corn is just hitting the farm stands, so I haven’t done much with it yet, but it’s made a few notable appearances which I’d like you to know about.
First, a salad. Cook quinoa and set aside. In a large skillet, saute minced garlic and sliced zucchini for a few minutes. Season with salt and pepper then add freshly cut corn kernels and cook for a minute longer. Add the cooked quinoa and a splash of oil and cook until well-mixed and hot. Remove from the heat, stir in chopped fresh mint and top with ricotta, flaky sea salt, and a drizzle of honey.
Second, corn pizza. Not my own creation: a blistered crust covered in fresh ricotta, mozzarella, basil, (sometimes zucchini), crispy bacon, and corn kernels. Yes.
Third, cake! A cake that really does taste of sweet corn. The inspiration for this one comes from ice cream, as so many good things do. Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams just released new summer flavors—one being their “sun-popped corn'“ pint, made (in their words) by “steeping crisp, sun-popped corn directly into dairy, infusing every inch with the flavor and aroma of addictive buttery popcorn.” WHOA BABY. Be still my heart.
It occurred to me that corn-infused milk could be put to use in all sorts of ways, from ice cream to pastry cream to mousse to custard. And why not try baking it into a cake?
I considered upping the corn factor even more by swapping some of the all-purpose flour for cornmeal, but ended up preferring the more delicate crumb of 100% flour. Ditto adding fresh corn kernels directly to the batter: not into the texture of that.
And what is the best part of summer corn on the cob? Warm salty butter, of course. So I brush the entire cake while still warm with a liberal amount of a salted brown butter glaze. WAHOO. You’re welcome.
Sweet Corn Bundt Cake
Makes one 10-cup Bundt cake
For the cake
2 large ears of fresh corn
2/3 cup (151g) buttermilk (not low-fat)
2/3 cup (151g) whole milk
3 cups (360g) all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup (227g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 1/3 cup (264g) granulated sugar
4 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
For the salty brown butter glaze
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 tablespoons water
Slice the kernels off of the corn cobs. Place the kernels, the cobs, the buttermilk, and the whole milk in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil, then cover and remove from the heat. Let sit, covered, for 1 hour.
After 1 hour, preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and very thoroughly grease a 10-cup Bundt pan. Sprinkle sugar into the greased pan and tap it to remove the excess.
Remove the cobs from the milk mixture and—using an immersion blender or by carefully transferring it all to a regular blend—blend the kernels and milk for a minute (you don’t need the mixture to be completely smooth). Press the mixture through a sieve, discarding the kernels.
Measure out 1 cup of the corn milk and save the rest for another use (like ice cream!).
Whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt.
In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well between each addition. Add the vanilla, then add the dry ingredients and the corn milk in three additions, alternating between each. Mix until the batter just comes together smoothly but don’t overmix.
Scrape the batter into your prepared cake pan. Bake for 55 to 75 minutes (this is a big range, I know, but it really varies with your oven and style of pan!) or until the top springs back lightly and a tester inserted into the center comes out clean.
Remove from the oven and let cool for 15 minutes in the pan before flipping it over onto a wire rack to finish cooling fully before slicing and serving.
While the cake cools, make the glaze. Add the butter to a small saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally and swirling the pan, until the butter foams. Continue cooking as the foam subsides and the butter begins to brown and smell nutty, then immediately remove from the heat and transfer to a medium heatproof bowl. Add the remaining ingredients and whisk well. Use a pastry brush to brush the glaze over the still-warm cake.