How to cook the perfect corn chowder – recipe

If there’s a single ingredient that unites Americans from Cape Horn to Canada, it’s maize. One of the sacred Three Sisters of indigenous north and central American diets, it’s revered as a god in Mesoamerican culture – and treasured in the UK largely as a way to bulk out tuna sandwiches.

Disrespectful, perhaps, but then this is not a plant that was much grown here – for human consumption, at least – until relatively recently, so it’s not surprising that we’re not up to speed with what to do with the stuff, apart from sticking it in a baked potato or burning it on the barbecue. If you’d like to expand your repertoire, this late-summer New England favourite is a great way to extract maximum flavour from each cob, and with minimal risk to your dentistry.

Soup versus chowder

First off, there are many, many recipes for corn-based soups out there – from Chinese chicken and sweetcorn to Colombian ajaico and Ghanian aprapransa, from silky bisques to chunky stews. But a chowder is a particular kind of soup: hearty, creamy and often, but not always, involving potatoes and seafood: two things that are traditionally close to New Englanders’ hearts.

Boston-born J Kenji López-Alt reports that, “as a New Englander, chowder runs thick in my blood. Besides eating it straight off the cob, there’s no better way to enjoy summer corn in all its sweet glory than in a sweet, rich, and creamy bowl of chowder”. But what’s the best way to make it?

The corn

A New Englander has easy access to just-picked corn, but unfortunately the vast majority of us in old England, and the rest of the UK, for that matter, do not. This is a problem, because, once it has been harvested, enzymes in corn begin converting its natural sugar into starch. According to the New Scientist, some older varieties can lose as much as half of their sugar inside 24 hours, which makes them a less-than-ideal candidate for lengthy modern supply chains, particularly because corn tends to be sold unrefrigerated, and chilling can slow their deterioration. “Moral of the story?” López-Alt writes on Serious Eats, “buy your corn as fresh as possible, refrigerate it as soon as you can, and cook it the day you buy it.”

Having got hold of the freshest corn I can lay my hands on (look for green husks with sticky, rather than dry skeins of brown “silk” at the top, and that feel heavy for their size), I begin the process of trying to extract as much corniness from them as possible.

At its simplest, this means removing the kernels from the cobs, then sticking the cobs into a pan to infuse the soup, as the Joy of Cooking suggests. Melissa Clark’s recipe in the New York Times does the same, but instructs cooks to run a knife along the cobs after removing the kernels, to get off as much pulp as possible first. This is stirred in later, along with the kernels. López-Alt, meanwhile, adds the pulp to the pan when making a stock with the cobs, covers it all with water, brings to a boil, then leaves to steep for 10 minutes. America’s Test Kitchen extracts the pulp from the cobs in much the same way as the other two, but squeezes the liquid from them and discards the rest. This bright yellow juice, which does indeed taste startlingly of corn, is added right at the end of the cooking, so its flavour stays as fresh and bright as possible.

Realistically, the corn that most of us are able to get hold of in the UK probably isn’t quite as fresh as would be ideal here, so we have to work a bit harder to get it to pack a punch, to which end I’ve combined the idea of America’s Test Kitchen’s final shot of corn milk with López-Alt’s corn stock. Instead of simmering it for a mere 10 minutes, however, I’m going for a full 90 minutes, to really get the most out of it – if that sounds like too much faff, you can cut the time required, but be aware there will be an attendant sacrifice of flavour.

The only recipe I try that’s intended for a British audience is from Anna Shepherd’s book Love Vegetables, and calls for tinned sweetcorn (allowing fresh as a substitute) that is charred in a hot pan before being added to the soup. I absolutely love the slightly smoky flavour of the kernels, which reminds me of barbecues and Mexican street corn, and many other good things besides. I also find that the tinned corn, even the kind without added sugar, is reliably sweeter and juicier than some of the fresh sort, so I’ve decided to use both (I also give frozen corn a go, but find it chewy). If you are confident in the freshness of your corn, by all means use four ears instead of the two here, and add them all to the stock.

The extra flavours

Potatoes are a must – I favour a floury variety, which is better to thicken the soup – and everyone starts their chowder with onion. Clark also uses shallot, which I find I prefer for its sweetness and which helps to bring out that of the corn, too. Shepherd, López-Alt and Clark all add garlic, and Shepherd and the Joy of Cooking celery, both of which I think risk overpowering the corn – having worked so hard to bring out its flavour, I don’t want any distractions. I do, however, like Shepherd’s green chilli, whose herbaceous bitter heat throws the corn into sweet relief, as well as the pops of colour and fruity acidity of Clark’s cherry tomatoes. (Tomatoes are, of course, a contentious subject when it comes to chowder, so if their addition goes against everything you stand for in life, by all means leave them out.)

You may, as with America’s Test Kitchen and the Joy of Cooking, fancy a sprinkling of bacon – its salty richness highlights the sweet freshness of the star player, much as the green chilli does. But I’m with López-Alt here: “I used to make my corn chowder with bacon … but I was never too happy with its dominating smoky flavour, so I switched over to unsmoked salt pork. Eventually, I realised that salt pork is really just a crutch for sub-par corn. If I’m going out of my way to get the best corn possible, I want its flavour to really shine.” If you do fancy adding some, though, saute diced thick-cut lardons with the onion and chilli, then scoop out the bacon pieces and set aside, adding it to the chowder only at the end, so it doesn’t become dry and chewy.

I’ve kept the seasoning to a minimum – just Shepherd’s bay leaf in the stock – but if you’re confident in your corn, you could stir in her fresh parsley and coriander, or America’s Test Kitchen’s thyme, or Clark’s basil, or even load the stock with spices – López-Alt uses fennel and coriander seeds and peppercorns, while Shepherd echoes the charred flavour of her corn with smoked paprika. Indeed, even if you keep it simple, you may find you need, as some recipes suggest, to add a pinch of sugar to make up for any deficit in the raw materials.

The liquid and consistency

Chowder is by its very nature creamy, whether that means cooking the other ingredients in milk, as in the Joy of Cooking’s recipe, or adding cream later in the process; double for Shepherd, single (or half and half) for America’s Test Kitchen and López-Alt.

I find cooking the veg in milk in a covered pan as recommended means you end up with a slightly curdled consistency, but I’m not all that keen on the chicken or vegetable stock López-Alt and Shepherd use, either. Unless you make them yourself, stocks tend to have a strong herbaceous flavour, unlike the corn stock I’m planning on using as the backbone of my recipe.

Equally, I don’t want to use any flour to thicken the soup, especially when potatoes are already involved – most of the recipes puree a portion of the soup base and return it to the pan, which seems sufficient to me. Chowder should be substantial, but not solid – as Charlie Burke of the Heart of New England website told the Smithsonian Magazine: “Authentic New England chowders are never thick … with most relying on the starch from the potatoes to slightly thicken the broth and milk or cream … The thick, pasty chowders served in many restaurants are full of flour, which masks the flavour of the clams, and would never be served at a church supper in Maine or by any self-respecting Yankee cook.”

For the same reason, I’m going to use single rather than double cream. If you’d prefer to keep your chowder entirely dairy-free, may I point you in the direction of Clark’s recipe, which confines itself to a single, optional dollop of soured cream or creme fraiche right at the end. Thin and tangy with lime juice, it’s a lighter, fresher take on seasonal ingredients – indeed, even with my creamy version, you might find the soup benefits from a squeeze of lemon at the end.

The garnish

A dusting of pepper is all you really need here, but if you’d like a little extra colour and freshness, herbs are a popular way to finish a chowder: coriander, parsley and celery leaves in Shepherd’s case, basil for Clark or, my favourite, America’s Test Kitchen’s chives. More confirmed onion lovers might be interested in López-Alt’s spring onions or Shepherd’s crisp shallots – I particularly enjoy the crunch of the latter, though I must admit to being lazy enough to buy them ready-made from the local Thai supermarket. There’s a good looking recipe here, though.

Perfect corn chowder

Prep 20 min
Infuse 1 hr 30 min
Cook 45 min
Serves 4

2 ears of corn
1 bay leaf (optional)
2 tbsp butter
2 long shallots, peeled and sliced into thin half-moons, or 1 small onion, peeled and finely chopped
1 fairly mild green chilli, stalk, pith and seeds discarded, flesh finely chopped
250g floury potatoes, cut into small chunks
1 handful cherry tomatoes, halved (optional)
200g tinned sweetcorn (drained weight)
100ml single cream
Salt and black pepper
½ lime or lemon, to taste (optional)
Chopped chives or coriander, to serve

Strip and discard the husks from the corn, then snap each cob in half. Strip off the kernels with a sharp knife (it’s easiest to do this in a shallow bowl, to limit escapees), then cover put in the fridge while you make the stock.

Firmly scrape the knife down the length of each cob into a bowl to extract as much juice and fibre as possible from all sides.

Spoon this into a clean square of muslin (or a thin tea towel), then squeeze all the juice out into a small bowl. Discard the dry fibres inside the cloth.

Put the cobs in a pan with the bay, if using, cover with a litre of water and bring to a simmer. Turn down the heat until the water is barely bubbling, then leave to cook and infuse for 90 minutes. Strain the corn stock into a pan and set aside.

When you’re ready to make the chowder, melt a tablespoon of the butter in a medium pan over a medium-low heat, then fry the shallots and chilli, if using, until softened and beginning to brown.

Add the potatoes, strained corn stock, the fresh corn and the tomatoes, if using, bring to a simmer and cook until the potatoes are soft. While that’s cooking, tip the drained tinned corn into a clean tea towel and dry it well.

Melt the remaining tablespoon of butter in a small frying pan over a high heat, then fry the tinned corn until it starts to char.

Once the potatoes are cooked, transfer about a quarter of the soup mix (don’t include any of the tomatoes) to a second pot or bowl, then puree it.

Stir this back into the pan, then add the cream, the charred corn and the reserved corn juices, and season to taste. Add a squeeze of citrus juice, if you think if needs it.

Serve the chowder warm or chilled, and with chives or coriander snipped on top.

• Let’s talk corn; where do you get the freshest stuff, is tinned or frozen the next best thing and what, beyond tuna mayo, do you like to use it in? And do you have a favourite corn soup recipe?