Corn Chowder
It’s been a week.
You don’t even have the brain cells to describe what kind of week it’s been. You just want to go home and eat something hot and homemade. Unfortunately, that involves thinking, which you just can’t do at the moment. You feel cold, hungry and stupid. That’s OK. Here is the easiest impressive food you’ll ever make. The only things you’ll need to measure are the seasonings, and you’ll use the same amount — a teaspoon — for each of them.
You’ve got this.
Corn Chowder
1 stick (1/2 cup) butter
1-pound bag of frozen corn
1-pound bag of frozen chopped onions – if your supermarket is out of frozen onions, there will almost certainly be half-pound containers of chopped onions in the produce section; just grab two of them
1 pound (half a 2-pound bag) frozen diced potatoes, usually labeled as “hash browns” or “O’Brien potatoes”
1 half-gallon container of whole milk
1 teaspoon salt – I like coarse sea salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
Put a large pot on medium heat. I have a 3-gallon soup pot that I like a lot, but anything you have that holds more than a gallon will work fine.
Unwrap the stick of butter and toss it into your big pot. I say “toss,” and that’s fine — there’s something very satisfying about the dull thud it makes as it hits the bottom of the pot.
Take a couple of minutes to pour yourself a glass of wine. If you have a bottle of something bubbly in the back of your refrigerator for a special occasion, this might be a good time to open it up.
Check on the butter. If it’s melted and foamy, or just melted, or almost melted, cut open the bag of frozen chopped onions. If the bag gives you any trouble at all, use your kitchen scissors or a wickedly sharp knife to slash it open. Don’t worry about making a nice, neat cut; you’re going to use the whole bag anyway. The onions will make a satisfying hiss as they hit the hot fat. Let them cook down until they are translucent and maybe the tiniest bit golden-brown. Stir from time to time.
When your kitchen starts smelling like fried onions, turn on the fan above your stove and empty the bag of frozen corn into the pot and stir it. Let that cook down for a few minutes.
Drink some more wine.
After a few minutes, add the potatoes. Don’t bother measuring them. I mean, you can, if you want to, but the whole point of this recipe is how undemanding it is. Stir them from time to time.
This is the only thing that you’ll have to measure: Add a teaspoon each of salt, pepper and smoked paprika. Stir them into the corn mixture.
Add the entire container of milk. Stir your proto-soup, then reduce the heat to a simmer, and go into the other room and do something for yourself. The key here is to shout, “I’M MAKING SOUP!” if anyone tries to make any demands on you.
After an hour of simmering, your chowder will be ready to eat. It will look a little pink from the paprika, but a quick stir will bring everything together. Ladle it into cups or bowls, and eat it with bread and butter. Just plain bread and butter. And more wine, if there’s any left.
This is a hearty, comforting, delicious chowder. It tastes like — surprise! — butter and corn and sweet onions and potatoes. It is perfect for dunking bread and butter into. Pretty much any adult will like this a lot and will grunt with satisfaction. It’s good, but not fancy enough that they will feel obligated to make a big deal out of it. Nobody has the energy for that this week.
Will children like it? There’s absolutely nothing in this chowder that a child would not like. Therefore, one of your kids will decide that they don’t like it. In which case, just tell them to eat their bread and butter.
John Fladd is a veteran Hippo writer, a father, writer and cocktail enthusiast, living in New Hampshire.
Featured photo: Corn Chowder. Photo by John Fladd.
