Along with onion rings, fried cheese and nachos, spinach-artichoke dip is among Americans’ favorite appetizers. And why not? It’s creamy, it’s cheesy and it tastes like pure perfection on top of a pita chip.

As tasty as it is, however, if your only experience with artichokes is in dip, you’re missing out, as there’s so much more than “appetizer” to this sun-kissed vegetable.

Native to the Mediterranean, artichokes are now grown year-round in California, which provides nearly 100 percent of the United States’ artichoke supply. One California county, in particular — Monterey County, in central California — is known as artichoke country, as it’s responsible for approximately 75 percent of California’s total artichoke acreage, yielding nearly 4 million cartons of artichokes every year.

If you’re not familiar with artichokes, the folks in Monterey County are good people to ask about them. They’ll probably be able to tell you about the history of the artichoke, which according to Elizabethan folklore was created by the gods when they turned a beautiful woman who had angered them into a thistle. They’ll probably be able to tell you about the nutritional benefits of the artichoke, too, as it’s a natural diuretic and digestive aid that’s chock-full of fiber, potassium and magnesium, not to mention vitamins A and C.

More than anything, though, Monterey County farmers are likely to tell you not to be afraid of artichokes. Although they look peculiar — like the pointed end of a lance, or a tough, leafy thistle — inside their armored exterior is a tender treat.

To harvest that treat is admittedly tricky, as an artichoke plant is actually the bud of a large flower. Picked before the flower blooms, the edible part of an artichoke is located at the base of each leaf petal, of which there are dozens on a single bud. To get at it therefore requires cooking the entire bud, then picking off each petal — one by one — and scraping off the tender pulp, usually with your teeth.

It’s a labor-intensive process, but it’s worth it thanks to the artichoke’s unique, nutty flavor. Perfect with spinach, mayonnaise and parmesan in America’s favorite dip, that flavor’s also ideal on its own, whether baked, steamed or boiled. For pure artichoke flavor, try roasting an artichoke with garlic and olive oil, then dipping the leaves in clarified butter or lemon juice.

However you prepare it, you’ll be pleasantly surprised when you discover the artichoke’s hidden gem: its heart. After peeling away all the leaves from an artichoke bud, you’ll be left with a fuzzy core — known as the choke — that is actually the artichoke’s undeveloped flower. When you remove and discard the choke, what’s left is the edible artichoke heart, considered by many to be the best part of the vegetable.

Speaking of hearts, artichokes were considered an aphrodisiac in Renaissance-era Europe, where they were reserved only for men, who believed artichokes would make their wives and daughters promiscuous.

We can’t say whether they’ll improve your love life, but we can guarantee that artichokes will improve your next meal — as both an appetizer and an entrée.

It’s peak season for asparagus, and this delicious vegetable is very much in vogue at green markets all over Paris this month.  Super ripe, green and white asparagus are popping up everywhere in the French capital.  They are as ubiquitous as those tiny Smart cars everyone seems to be driving, and as chic as that impossible-to-describe taupe-like color draped over the shoulders of every fashionable woman on the Rue du Faubourg St. Honore.

Since you’re reading this in English there is a pretty good chance you are not a native Parisian.  Even so, you should definitely stroll through a few of the City’s neighborhood marches whenever you find yourself in the City of Light.  I always stop by my favorite Parisian outdoor markets, even when I have no intention of cooking.  For one thing, I just enjoy looking at food, and I want to know what’s fresh and in season.  But beyond that, the city’s numerous markets offer a fascinating glimpse into the local culture and cuisine.  Just don’t look at the fresh chickens if you’re squeamish, because they will be glimpsing right back at you.

Marche Raspail

The Marche Raspail is one of my favorites.  Located on the Boulevard Raspail in the elegant 6^th Arrondissement, it has a bigger assortment than most and a large selection of organic produce (look for signs that say biologique, or often just bio for short).  Right now the bins are overflowing with fresh seasonal produce, including of course lots of asparagus.  There is also a fabulous bread baker at the Marche Raspail that I love to visit for a morning snack.

St. Germain Covered Market

Just a short walk from the Marche Raspail, the St. Germain covered market is a good choice on a rainy day.  Smaller than the Marche Raspail, it nevertheless has a wide selection of produce and there is an excellent cheese vendor along the south aisle. 

Place Baudoyer

The small market in the Place Baudoyer has a true neighborhood feeling.  Located in the hip and youthful Marais district near the Hotel de Ville, this market is where locals from the surrounding blocks stop by to pick up fresh bread and produce as they hurry home from the metro station for their evening meal.  The variety of seafood at this market can be surprising.  Landlocked in Paris, it’s easy to forget that France is a country with three long coastlines, until you see the fabulous seafood displayed at markets throughout the capital.  Squid are especially prevalent, and shellfish are everywhere, especially clams.    

Locations

The Marche Raspail is located on Boulevard Raspail between Rue du Cherche Midi and Rue de Rennes.  It is open Tuesdays and Fridays from 7:00 AM to 2:30 PM (although most vendors seem to close up shop much earlier).  The St. Germain Covered Market is at 4/8 Rue Lobineau and is open Tuesday through Saturday from 8:30 AM to 1:00 PM and 4:00 PM to 7:00 PM and on Sundays from 8:30 AM to 1:00 PM.  The Baudoyer Market is in the Place Baudoyer in the 4^th Arrondissement and takes place on Wednesdays from 3:00 PM to 8:30 PM and Saturdays from 7:00 AM to 3:00 PM.

Reader Request

If you have a favorite green market that you like to visit, please click on comments below and let me know.  I’ll be sharing readers’ favorites in a future post in Travels in Taste.

Bon Appétit

Rob Lubin

Although it’s a vegetable, asparagus looks a bit like a weapon on first glance. Like a medieval spear, it’s long and slender — fat at the bottom, narrowed into a point at the top — and is riddled with sharp looking barbs that would no doubt slice you if they were made of metal. Luckily, they’re not. Instead, they’re made of delicious, woody stalks and natural sugars, making these spears ideal for eating instead of throwing.

Even ancient warriors agree, as asparagus was grown in ancient Egypt and in ancient Rome, by the subjects of Julius Caesar himself. In fact, an old Roman saying — “As quick as cooking asparagus” — was a popular way to say you’d accomplished something quickly.

As early as 200 B.C. people were leaving written instructions for growing asparagus. The English word — which comes from the Greek word asparagos, meaning sprout or shoot — didn’t appear in print, however, until 1000 A.D. A few hundred years later, during the 15th and 16th centuries in Renaissance-era Italy, asparagus was especially popular, as it was a sign of elegance and wealth. In fact, it became known in Europe as “the food of kings” because King Louis XIV of France enjoyed it so much that he had special greenhouses built to produce a year-round supply of it.

It’s no wonder Louis liked it so much, as asparagus — a member of the Lily family — is among the world’s most nutritious vegetables. At less than four calories per spear, it’s loaded with folic acid, potassium, fiber, thiamin, vitamin C and vitamin B6, not to mention rutin, a compound that strengthens capillary walls. It’s so nutritious, in fact, that ancient Chinese herbalists used asparagus root to treat everything from arthritis to infertility.

Because asparagus is so nutritious, we’re lucky that we can get it year-round. Although spring is the best season for fresh asparagus — crops in the United States are typically harvested from late February to June, April being the peak — it’s grown year-round all over the world. That’s because an asparagus plant is among the heartiest plants out there, capable of producing asparagus for up to 15 years. In fact, under ideal conditions a single asparagus crown can produce a 10-inch asparagus spear in just 24 hours, which means that some asparagus fields must be harvested every day. In the United States, where nearly 95 percent of the country’s fresh asparagus is grown in California, that harvest adds up to 200 million pounds every year.

That’s a lot of asparagus to eat. Luckily, it’s hard to get bored eating it, as there are several varieties of asparagus — green, purple and the ever-elegant white, which is asparagus that’s been deprived of light and is therefore milder in flavor and more tender than the green variety — and many ways to prepare it. Try blanching it, for instance, for five to eight minutes in boiling water. Or, better yet, roasting it with olive oil in a high-temperature oven for 10 to 15 minutes. Bored with that? You can stir fry it, steam it or even grill it.

However you prepare it, you’ll get the best results when you choose asparagus spears that are firm and closed at the tip. You can choose thick stalks or slender ones — both are delicious — but be sure to trim an inch or two off the ends before cooking. If they’re especially thick, it’s a good idea to peel them, too, with a vegetable peeler. After that, the spears are ready to throw — straight onto your dinner menu!

Although it sounds like a terrifying horror movie monster, an edible wolf peach isn’t scary at all. In fact, it’s delicious. That’s because an edible wolf peach is neither a wolf nor a peach. It’s the literal translation for the Latin botanical name lycopersicon esculentum — or simply put, tomato.

Call it a wolf peach, a tomata or even a love apple. But don’t underestimate the ubiquitous tomato. Brought to Europe from the New World in the 15th century, tomatoes took some time to catch on with Italian, French and Spanish palates. As a member of the nightshade family – along with potatoes, peppers and eggplant — the tomato was at first considered too poisonous to eat. Eventually, however, the tomato made its way onto pasta and into sauces, at which point the juicy red fruit became a staple in the vegetable garden.

Which leads to the age-old question: Are tomatoes fruits or vegetables? Technically, they’re fruits — berries, in fact, thanks to their pulpy centers, which are full of edible seeds like raspberries are. We often call them vegetables, however, because that’s how we prepare them, in savory dishes — along with things like squash, peppers, cucumbers and green beans — instead of the sweet dishes in which we tend to use fruit. Really, it depends who you ask. Scientists will tell you tomatoes are fruit. The U.S. Supreme Court, however, will tell you they’re vegetables, as it classified them as such in 1893 so that the United States could charge a vegetable import tax on them.

Just as interesting as its classification is the tomato’s name. The Oxford English Dictionary traces the origin of the name tomato to the indigenous Mexican word tomatl, which it suggests might have been changed to tomato to echo the other popular New World food, the potato. In its early days, the tomato was considered not only poisonous, but also powerful, as it was believed to have powerful aphrodisiac qualities; hence the nickname love apple.

In his fine food science reference On Food and Cooking, Harold McGee writes that despite “a period of European suspicion that lasted into the 19th century” tomatoes are now eaten “all over the world in a great variety of sizes, shapes and carotenoid-painted colors.” In fact, he observes in the United States “they’re second in vegetable popularity only to the potato.”

Because they’re so popular, it’s lucky that tomatoes are so easy to grow. They can be grown from seed or from stem cuttings, and there are dozens of varieties available designed to grow indoors, in colder climates and through hydroponics. There are red tomatoes, green tomatoes and yellow tomatoes, not to mention round Beefsteak tomatoes, pear-shaped Roma tomatoes and small cherry or grape tomatoes. All, however, are delicious and — because they’re rich in vitamins A and C, with only 35 calories apiece — nutritious.

Just as diverse as varieties and growing methods are recipes. Tomatoes do wonders for meats and sauces, and one of the best ways to load up on the antioxidant lycopene — believed to aid in the prevention of some types of cancer, especially prostate cancer — is by cooking tomatoes with a bit of your favorite red wine.

However you prepare them, make sure you choose only the freshest tomatoes for your recipes. While the canned variety work just fine, nothing beats the vine-ripened kind — especially in summer, when they’re in season. At the market, look for tomatoes with taught skin that smell like the garden at the stem end. And when you get them home, keep them away from the refrigerator. Cold temperatures make tomatoes’ flesh pulpy, mushy and flavorless, and you want your edible wolf peaches to be fierce, not flat.

To the average Joe and Jane, a ramp is little more than a sloped road. It’s an incline. A way to get from Point A to Point B — without having to take the stairs. To foodies, however, ramp means more than road. It means dinner, too.

If you’ve never heard of them — let alone eaten them — ramps are mountain vegetables, grown most often in the Appalachian Mountains of West Virginia and North Carolina. They’re a member of the onion family, like leeks, and like so many favorite foods they come around just once a year. Luckily, that time is now, as the season’s first leeks tend to make their way from the mountains to the markets in March and continue to do so throughout April and into May.

Because you don’t have much time to try this delicious piece of green, a quick primer is probably in order. Here’s what you need to know:

• Where ramps come from: Native to eastern North America, ramps, also called wild leeks, are related to onions and garlic. Scientists know them, however, as Allium tricoccum. Although there are many hypotheses, no one knows for sure how ramps came to be called ramps. One popular theory suggests they were named for the English folk name Ramson — son of Ram — since the plant appears during the sign of Aries on the zodiac calendar (and perhaps, unofficially, because Ramson sounds like ransom, which is appropriate since Mother Nature holds ramps hostage for all but a few months out of the year). However they got their modern name, ramps are probably much older than the English language, as the use of cultivated leeks — their closest relative — can be traced all the way back to ancient Egypt. Even if they’re new to you, therefore, ramps are actually quite old. In fact, Native Americans used them as medicine, to treat coughs, colds, pain and itching. So if taste isn’t enough, you can be sure that ramps are really, really good for you.

• What ramps look like: In the wild, ramps grow from bulbs, like tulips do, and eventually get up to 12 inches tall and 2 inches wide. Like green onions, they have an onion-like bulb of white — about a half inch around — at the bottom, from which sprouts a bunch of leafy greens. The leaves themselves are flat and feather-shaped, with a rash of slender, maroon-colored stalk connecting the white on the bottom to the green on the top.

• How ramps taste: The easiest way to identify a ramp isn’t to see it. It’s to smell it. Ramps smell like a combination of onion and garlic, only much stronger — so strong that kids were once rumored to eat them so that their teachers would send them home from school in order to escape the lingering odor on the children’s breath. Although raw ramps are pungent, cooked ramps are much milder; they smell more like garlic, but taste more like onions — but earthier.

• How ramps are prepared: You can use ramps as a substitute for any recipe that calls for onions, garlic, leeks or scallions. You can use them cooked or raw, in soups or in casseroles. In their native Appalachia, however, they’re most commonly fried along with potatoes in bacon grease, or scrambled with eggs for breakfast. The possibilities are endless.

There’s a lot more one could learn about ramps, but the clock’s ticking quickly away on all things spring. Besides, your palate’s the best teacher there is. So quit clicking and start cooking, before the summer sun melts the ramps away for another year!

Remember that old tongue twister, “She sells seashells by the seashore?” Well, if “she” is lucky, she’ll use her loot to buy herself a delicious dinner of soft-shell crab. Like seashells and the seashore, it’s one of the hallmarks of summer. And because the season’s so short, it’s worth celebrating while it lasts.

No one knows this better than the folks who live on the Mid-Atlantic coast. When you sit down at a crab shack on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay, they’ll tell you, there are few things more mouth-watering on the menu than a soft-shell crab. The reason: When you do, you’re actually ordering a blue crab that’s gone through a process called ecdysis,  more commonly known as molting. Beginning in May, as the blue crabs emerge from their winter dormancy, and lasting until September, young crabs are molting — or shedding — their shells. It’s part of growing up, like crab adolescence. In order to grow a newer, bigger shell, they’ve got to get rid of the old one. When they do, they’re vulnerable for a period of two to three months while their new shell grows and hardens. Blue crabs caught in traps during this period are called soft-shell­ crabs because their new shells are still soft enough to eat, along with the actual crab meat inside them.

Because blue crabs typically only molt in the summer, they’re a limited-time delicacy in places like Maryland, the Carolinas, Florida and Louisiana.  Of course, you can often get “fresh” blue crab all year long from as far away as California. Just be sure they smell fresh; if they smell like ammonia, they’re not, which means you shouldn’t eat them.

Assuming they’re odorless, however, eat up! When you do, you’ll be enjoying not only a taste of the sea, but also a taste of history … especially in Maryland, where soft-shell crabs have been part of the coastal culture since the early 1800s.

Since then, that culture has been captured by a number of Mid-Atlantic locals, including authors like James H. Michener, who popularized the lifestyle and history of crab fishermen — known as watermen — in his best-selling 1979 novel Chesapeake. In it, Michener goes into the grittier details of crabbing, but if you just want to enjoy the flavorful adventure of soft-shell crab, all you have to do is search out a restaurant that serves them right: fried, steamed or the French sautéed meuniere (in the manner of the Miller’s wife — with butter and flour).

However the chef prepares it, you can be sure that soft-shell crab is just as delicious as its name suggests. After all, the scientific name for soft-shell crab is callinectes sapidus, which translates not as “blue crab,” which some Web sites might have you believe, but rather as tasty (sapidus), pretty (calli) swimmer (nectes).  Indeed, if you’ve only seen blue crab do their comical sideways walk on land, you might have never guessed that they’re actually elegant swimmers.

As for the taste: There’s no mistaking the wonderful flavor of a fresh, tender soft-shell crab. So go ahead and sell your seashells by the seashore this summer. But don’t you dare sell your soft-shell crab; instead, eat it, and enjoy!

If you consider carrot cake a vegetable, then you’ll definitely want to check out Spanky’s Cupcakes at the Las Olas Boulevard Green Market in Fort Lauderdale.  Spanky’s is my kind of produce stand!  Last Sunday I rode my bicycle past the market, just to see what was fresh and in season.  Apparently, it’s cupcake season. 

All the usual suspects were there at the green market - the organic produce vendor, the flower lady, the fresh bread guy.  And then there was Spanky’s.  Yes it’s supposed to be a green market, but many people do actually classify cupcakes as produce.  Certainly the key lime cupcake would qualify as citrus, and of course the guava cupcake is fruit based.  I might put Spanky’s coconut-almond sno-ball cupcake in the maybe column, but really who cares?  They’re delicious.  Besides, I’d say judging by the look of the man behind the counter, they’re actually quite good for you.

Spanky’s is owned by three Fort Lauderdale body builders, so when the vendor told me to try one I couldn’t possibly risk offending him by saying no.  The man looked like he could beat the stuffing out of me!  I had to force myself - what choice did I have? 

Frankly he did not look like a person who eats a lot of cupcakes, but I could be wrong.  If he is, then I want to package and sell that diet, because I’d make a fortune.  I’ve already picked out my book title.  “How I added five inches to my biceps by sitting on the couch all day eating choco peanut butter cupcakes.”  Who wouldn’t try a diet like that? 

Needless to say I went with the double choco cupcake.  It was outstanding.  Chocolate cake, chocolate frosting, and chocolate chips - all the major food groups.  And it’s no wonder it’s so tasty.  Spanky’s chef, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, uses only fresh eggs and sweet cream butter from local dairy farms, Scharffen Berger chocolate, and Nielsen-Massey pure Madagascar Bourbon vanilla. 

Spanky’s Cupcakes is new to Fort Lauderdale, and so far there is no store.  If you don’t catch them at the green market, you can call and order your cupcakes over the phone.  Spanky’s delivers (as all pastry chefs should), so no need to deny yourself.  Just in the Fort Lauderdale area of course.  As far as I know they will not fly up to New York to drop off a dozen red velvets at your suite at the St. Regis.  I don’t want to hear any complaining from my New York readers, not when you have the chocolate devil’s food cupcakes at Amy’s Bread just down the street, and Magnolia Bakery right around the corner.  But if you’re in Fort Lauderdale, definitely give Spanky’s a try. 

Until they have a store (let’s hope), you can reach Spanky’s Cupcakes at 954.630.0016, or you can visit their web site at www.SPANKYSCUPAKES.com.

I have added Spanky’s to my list of cupcake stops, but I have still not named a favorite.  We Take the Cake in Fort Lauderdale is definitely on my top 10 list, and I’m also a big fan of Amy’s and Magnolia in New York.  Friends tell me I need to try the cupcakes at South End Buttery in Boston, so I’ll be heading up there in May to give them a try and will report back.  If you have already found the perfect cupcake, please click on comments below and let me know.   I’ll publish your suggestions in a future post and we can compare notes.

Bon Appétit,

Rob Lubin

In Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare famously asks, “What’s in a name?” Well, if you’re talking about beef, the answer is easy: Everything.

“That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” writes the famed playwright. Had he been talking about steak, however — especially the Japanese variety — he might have changed his mind.

 Sure, what we call Kobe beef by any other name would probably taste just as sweet, but without the word Kobe we wouldn’t know how to order it. Kobe beef on a menu would sound just like any other variety of beef — and Kobe beef is not just like any other variety of beef.

 For that reason, we’ve got a beef with Japanese beef. Well, not with the beef — we love the beef — but rather with the American words for describing it.

 On a typical American restaurant menu, you’ll likely see two words used interchangeably to describe Japanese-style beef: Kobe and Wagyu. While both are delicious, they’re not necessarily the same thing — and it’s time to set the record straight for carnivorous, Kobe-craving foodies everywhere.

 Before you can understand what Kobe beef is, you’ve got to understand what Wagyu beef is, which is beef — generally — from Japanese cows. In fact, the term Wagyu simply means Japanese (Wa) cattle (gyu). For that reason, several other, non-Kobe  varieties of beef can also be called Wagyu.

 Of course, Japanese cows aren’t identical to American cows. Although they may look the same to the untrained eye, their insides really are different.  Raised over several centuries on different terrain and eating a different diet than American cows, Japanese cattle produce beef that’s uniquely marbled with fat, which makes Wagyu beef especially flavorful, tender and juicy.

 So, what’s Kobe, then? Well, there are actually four major breeds of Japanese cow, or Wagyu. Kobe — a black-haired variety — happens to be just one of them. All Kobe beef is therefore Wagyu, but not all Wagyu beef is Kobe.

 Just like authentic Champagne must come from the Champagne region of France, authentic Kobe beef must come from Hyogo Prefecture, Japan. Champagne from anywhere else is just sparkling wine, connoisseurs insist, and Kobe beef from anywhere else is just “Kobe-style” beef, or Tajimi-ushi - which refers to the type of black-haired cattle raised for both Kobe and Kobe-style beef.

 The reason is more than just semantics. It’s historical, too, as volumes have been written about the history of cattle in Japan, where eating four-legged animals was once outlawed due to the nation’s Buddhist belief system.

 Eating beef became popular — and legal — again during the Meiji Restoration (1867-1912), when Emperor Meiji attempted to bring more Western influence into Japan. By the mid-20th century, Kobe beef had become popular as a prized but rare delicacy in Japan, which lacks a lot of land for grazing animals. Kobe must therefore be raised in very limited numbers and under very specialized conditions.

 Which leads us to what really separates authentic Japanese Kobe from other varieties of Wagyu, including the American version: To this day, black Kobe cows often have their own little homes and are fed a carefully guarded diet that almost certainly includes barley, wheat, corn and — eventually — beer. Some purveyors even massage their cows with Sake based on the belief that a soft, gentle coat produces a finer, more delicate meat. Because of how they’re fed and cared for, true Kobe beef in Japan can therefore fetch up to $400 per pound.

 Here in the United States, true Kobe beef is very hard to come by. When you see it on a U.S. restaurant menu, therefore, you’ll most likely be eating a Kobe-style (a.k.a. Wagyu or Tajima) steak, instead. While it’s no less delicious — and no less expensive, at between $50 and over $150 per pound — it’s worth knowing the difference, in case you ever get the chance to taste the real deal.

 Whether you’re eating real Kobe or American Tajima, be sure that your meat’s prepared properly. No matter how you usually prefer your steak, marbled meat like Kobe is best served rare or medium rare, which preserves the flavors of the tender meat tucked in between those thick marbled layers of melted fat. Kobe-style beef differs so much from even the finest prime cuts in the United States that it’s almost always best to have it prepared by a chef with expert knowledge of this Japanese delicacy.

 What’s in a name, Shakespeare? If your steak costs more than your monthly car payment, the answer is, “a lot!”

Some people take home fruits and vegetables and make salsa on the kitchen counter.  This weekend  I took home fruits and vegetables that I think are secretly dancing the Salsa on my kitchen counter.  Sunday I went to the Lincoln Road Farmers’ Market in South Beach, a town so hot that even the produce seems to dance to a sexy Latin rhythm. 

March is a perfect time to visit South Beach.  This Sunday the temperature hit 80 degrees, and with a gentle breeze off the Atlantic it was  a perfect beach day.  Still, not everyone was at the beach.  The Lincoln Road Farmers’ Market was in full swing, and vendors had planted themselves all along the pedestrian only boulevard, to sell exotic fruits and vegetables, flowers, honey, and even a few local crafts. 

This time of year the market is brimming with winter vegetables from Florida farms.  Temple oranges and honey tangerines from the Indian River are at their peak right now, and so are the lusciously rich strawberries grown in and around Plant City.   Fresh cut herbs are always available at the Market.  In summer I often find locally grown lychees, pink guava, avocado, dragon fruit and mangoes.

By the way, if you have never tried dragon fruit, it’s a real treat.  The skin is bright pink and green and looks great on the kitchen counter or the dining room table.  To eat it, cut it in half and spoon the fruit out of the center like ice cream.  It’s just slightly sweet and outrageously juicy.  

Morning is the best time to go to the Lincoln Road Farmers’ Market, before the temperature starts to climb and the beach beckons.  After brunch at one of the many fine restaurants in the area, a stroll through the Farmers’ Market is the perfect opportunity to plan the evening’s meal. 

The Lincoln Road Farmers’ Market takes place every Sunday from 9 am to 7 pm.

 Bon Appetite,

Rob Lubin

If you’ve ever taken a road trip through the Midwest, where miles upon miles of cornfields stretch east from Kansas and Nebraska on through Iowa, Illinois, Indiana and Ohio, you know that from the car, all corn looks the same. The corn in cornfields looks so similar, in fact, that it dizzies the eye, like one of those Magic Eye posters that were popular in the 1990s. No wonder they call corn maize; like a maze, it would be pretty easy to get lost in a sea of Kansas corn!

While all corn looks the same when you’re driving through Iowa on Interstate 80, the truth is: It isn’t. In fact, there are dozens of varieties of corn worldwide, including five main types — pop corn, which is also known as Indian corn; flint corn, which is a larger type of pop corn; flour corn, which is used to make corn flour and corn meal; dent corn, which is the quintessential yellow corn with which we’re all so familiar; and sweet corn, which has smaller, sweeter kernels than the dent variety.

Whatever corn you put on your plate, one thing’s for sure: It’s not the same corn on which your ancestors noshed. Just ask the history books. While there are many myths surrounding corn and the American dinner plate, popular history suggests that Powhatan’s daughter, Pocahontas, helped John Smith and the colonists grow corn successfully in Jamestown around 1608. Other stories, meanwhile, bring corn to the table at the harvest feast of 1621, in which the pilgrims at Plymouth finally reaped the rewards of Squantos’ advice to fertilize their fields with fish.

While both myths contain a “kernel” of truth, the reality is that we don’t really know when, exactly, corn became American settlers’ favorite food. What we do know with some certainty, however, is that corn was first cultivated over 5,000 years ago in areas of Mexico and Central America, and that it wasn’t until the discovery of the New World that it made its way to Europe.

That means that if you ever come across the term “corn” in English literature predating the voyage of Christopher Columbus, it’s probably not the same kind that now flourishes in the Midwest. In fact, it’s probably something far less appetizing, because the word “corn” was not actually a prescient reference to corn on the cob. Instead, in England - and in the works of Chaucer and Shakespeare - “corn” was once a generic term for any type of grain or wheat. Gruel, anyone?

Still, the British were on to something, as the corn that indigenous Americans shared with European settlers did, ironically, grow originally as a type of grass - like wheat - that was cultivated over thousands of years into the domestic vegetable we grill today.

Speaking of grilling, it’s almost corn season here in the United States. Of the five varieties we previously mentioned, two of the most common kinds of corn are sweet corn - with small, sugary kernels — and yellow corn - with larger, more buttery kernels. While only the yellow type gives you Vitamin A, both types give you protein, fiber and Vitamin C, and therefore make for a delicious and nutritious hot-off-the-grill treat.

While you can get frozen corn throughout the year, the freshest corn is available during corn season from May through September, which also happens to be grilling season! If you’re lucky enough to get un-husked corn, try grilling it just like that, with the husk on. Just be sure that the corn is fresh. Fresh corn recently picked has tight and pure green husks without any brown edges. The corn silk should be a medium brown to yellow color and look fresh to the eye without any significant dryness. Also good to know: if there are larger kernels near the ends of the cob, that’s a sign of a corn past its prime.

Fresh corn, picked and cooked the same day, is the absolute best. A way to preserve its freshness if you plan to serve it within two or three days is to husk the corn, gently remove the silk from the surface, roll the ear in a plain paper towel and dampen it with water, then place the ears in a sealed clear food storage baggie for storage in the refrigerator. The results are an amazingly fresh tasting ear.

If it’s still too cold for grilling where you live, try cooking the corn by placing it in a large pot of boiling water with a pinch of sugar for three to eight minutes, depending on the size of the ear and its kernels. Slather it with butter, salt and pepper, and enjoy an early taste of summer!