Here’s the thing with corn: it’s really, really good when it’s really, really fresh. When it’s sweet and crisp and the corn kernels pop in your mouth when you bite into freshly grilled corn on the cob, slathered with avocado butter and drizzled with some flaky salt. Heaven. There’s just one problem with heaven; it apparently doesn’t always have a place in danish grocery stores – and that’s a real pity and a shame, since corn grows well in Denmark. Should I really have to go into a supermarket to pick up some fresh corn and find some (granted, all right looking) corn imported from Morocco? Understandable maybe in May when nothing much is seasonal here yet, but in August? During corn season? Corn might look like a sturdy plant and corn cobs aren’t fragile in the “don’t drop the shopping basket, there’s eggs in there” way, but once they’re picked, the clock starts ticking and the beautifully sweet milk inside each corn kernel starts converting into starch – the longer it takes to get the corn from field to market, the starchier the corn gets and a starchy ear of corn is not a good thing to sink your teeth into, no matter how much butter you put on top of it.
Everyone in this house loves melons, any and all, Cantaloupe, Galia, Honeydew, Canary, Piel de Sapo (which Felix calls the “american football melon, just green” – I don’t know, better or worse than its real name – “Skin of the Toad”, anyone?) Charentais, all are good. We eat them for desert, they go in lunchboxes (messy…but so yummy!), I wrap them with prosciutto or prepare them as a salad with arugula and lots of cracked black pepper – my friend Anne-Sophie introduced me to a grown-up only version of eating the small charentais melons for desert: halved around the equator, deseeded and the resulting hollow filled with port wine – thanks, Anne-Sophie and it goes without saying, it’s a french thing and the melons need to be super ripe and soft, else it’s a bloodbath….