Taking stock

and a recipe for sweetcorn stock

There are no strangers here; only people you haven’t yet met.

—William Butler Yeats

When I started this little weekly missive on Substack, it was with no grand ambition other than to find a new home for my cooking adventures. A way to mark the passing of the seasons with recipes that reflect the best that Mother Nature has on offer.

In an unexpected turn of events, it also quickly became a forum for me to capture and try to articulate the musings, observations and questions that flit through my mind constantly with the lightening speed of hummingbirds.

And no wonder. We were in the middle of a raging pandemic, one that kept us away from everything that seemed to matter most. In that slowing down of time, the ability to reflect and ponder, to drink deeply from the honeyed well, became not just a pastime, but a lifeline.

Lost followers, found friendships

As my musings have multiplied, so too have my subscribers, little ripples that have gone beyond the “family and friends” circle.

Still, it is a modest group that comes for a visit with me here every Sunday. As readers come, others drop off, perhaps looking for less philosophizing and more pasta. The “jump to recipe” button that can cut to the chase, no prose required.

But having a “following” is not why I’m here, nor, I expect, why you are. In words and stories delivered digitally, I hope that the few minutes you spend here at Delicious Bits nourishes you, even if you don’t venture into kitchen to try your hand at cherry pie.

“Sometimes," said Pooh, "the smallest things take up the most room in your heart."

—A.A Milne

This little community gives me a thrill, even more so when I discover that I have readers far and wide. From Australia, Hungary, the UK, Mexico, and France, to readers across the U.S. and Canada, we’re a motley and diverse group, you and I.

Mostly, it gives me great joy to know that my words have resonated with you, both the friends I know and those who are out there in the ether. In different ways, I’ve been able to build deeper relationships with all of you, whether that’s through a comment you leave, a personal note you send or when you tell me when we see one another that you’re with me every week. When it’s Sunday morning and I’m drawing a blank on what to write about, it’s you, my DB crew, that keeps me going.

In weaving together this newsletter, I hope I’ve created bonds both tenuous and strong, a fine skein of friendships woven through words with a spiderweb silk stretching impossibly far. I’m so glad you’re here.

Corn stock

Deep Run Roots, Vivian Howard

The autumn equinox quietly arrived today, even as this most beautiful of Septembers continues to grace us with summer-like warmth. When the sun is shining, the basil still green and the impatiens abloom, we can be forgiven for thinking that the season isn’t quite over.

Yes, it’s true that sweater weather is just around the corner. But if you’re lucky enough to have the last of the season’s corn at hand, might I suggest you save those precious cobs and spin them into gold? This deeply flavoured corn stock is remarkably flexible and an ingenious way to enhance the taste of vegetable-based dishes. Consider using corn stock in place of water in any savoury recipe, or as a lighter alternative to chicken stock for more nuanced and concentrated flavour.

Ingredients:

Inner husks from 10 ears of corn

20 corncobs, corn removed

1 medium onion, diced

3-5 garlic cloves, smashed

2 sprigs thyme

2 bay leaves

1. When you shuck your ears of corn, remove the outside layer of husk and throw it away. Reserve the inner husks, minus the silk, from roughly 10 ears and place them in the bottom of an 8-quart stockpot.

2. Lay 20 corn-less cobs, the onion, garlic, thyme, and bay leaves on top of the husks and add water to cover by one inch. You can use cobs that have already been blanched as you would for putting up corn. What’s important is that corn was cut from the cob recently.

3. Bring the stock up to a boil and cover. Reduce to a simmer and cook for 1 hour. Strain and reserve the liquid. Return the stock to your pot and reduce by half. If you’d like to freeze it and space is an issue, reduce the stock further and freeze for up to 4 months.