Summer

This recipe for Roasted Corn and Black Bean Salad is brought to you by the fresh corn, leftover cotija cheese and a can of beans. And that lazy feeling that strikes during the Summer for something delicious yet easy. Like most everyone, I love fresh corn. Eight ears for 2 dollars? Sold!

When corn is sweet it's a cinch to prepare. In addition to adding it to a salad, my other favorite ways to prepare it are making corn chowder (I make a different version just about very time) and on the cob, slathered with mayo and dredged in crumbled cheese served with a wedge of lime.

While corn should be cooked soon after picking or purchasing, cotija cheese is the exact opposite. I bought cotija for some recipe or another and found the leftover cheese lasted and lasted. Like other Mexican cheeses, it's inexpensive, and easy to use. Cotija is a crumbly cheese, less salty than feta, but a little goes a long way. The beans in this recipe make the salad feel hearty and substantial. I suppose you could make it with canned or frozen corn all year round, but it really feels like a Summer dish to me. 

I’m told that coleslaw dates back to the ancient Romans, although it didn’t really kick into gear until mayo was invented in the 18th century. (Can you imagine life before mayo? One more reason to be glad that, in the birth lottery, you got a later century.)

“Cole” comes from the Latin word colis, you will be interested to know. But the Dutch called the salad koolsla,which I find more appealing so I’m stealing from them.

(We also have reason to believe that the Dutch practically invented tulips so they have really got it going on.)

But enough with the history lesson. I like a salad that won’t wilt overnight; you can make Kool Slaw on a Friday and eat it all weekend. Have it with (or inside) a sandwich, pop open a beer, and it’s a kool day.

You may have seen some of the unusual things that blend on the Will it Blend? videos. Turns out, you get some pretty interesting results when you put things like footballs, marbles, Glow Sticks, and a new 3G iPhone into a blender (some blend, some not so much).

Inspired, I decided to start my own series of experiments – Will it Grill?

I tried steak (yes), watermelon (yes), ice cream (nope), cereal (depends – Kashi yes, but Fruit Loops exploded into a multicolored fire ball), and avocados (yes).

The avocados were excellent. If you want to find out for yourself, here's how to grill an avocado:

1. Select a ripe yet somewhat firm avocado and slightly chill it.

2. Cut it in half and remove the pit. Brush it with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper.

3. Place it right away on a medium-high grill flesh-side down for about 60 seconds. Grill marks should be present, and the flesh should be lightly caramelized yet intact.

4. Eat immediately.

For those of us of a certain age, our first encounter with figs came not in life but in a movie theater when Oliver Reed used a fig, deftly cut open from the bottom, to help Alan Bates appreciate the pleasures of sensuality as he struggled with his attraction to Glenda Jackson in the 1969 classic, “Women in Love.”  Watching Oliver Reed spread open that ripe fig was the height of eroticism to a young boy.

After the movie I rushed out and bought a basket of figs and marveled at their round fullness.  The ones that were ripe had a heaviness that made my juvenile heart race with excitement.  But to my young palate, used to simple fruits like apples and pears, figs were much too strong tasting.

I learned to appreciate figs when I lived in a house with a fig tree. I enjoyed watching the fruit slowly form, first as a small bulb attached to a twig, then bulging into a soft, round shape, expanding into a fullness that invited the touch.

In one of my most pleasurable, early food-moments I watched a fig ripen and picked it just as its nectar collected at the bottom. Bitting into its warm sweetness, I was hooked. My breakfast routine after that required only a cup of black coffee, a piece of dry toast, and a trip to the fig tree.