← Back to Blog

Creamed Corn with Peas — A Side Dish I Made Mine

Patty and I made pierogi on Saturday. Practice batch for Christmas. We stood in her kitchen the way she and Babcia Rose used to stand in that kitchen, and I made the dough, which I have been making for three years now and which I can do well, and Patty made the filling, the potato and cheese filling with the caramelized onions that go in at the end, and we worked at the table with the board and the rolling pin.

I made twenty-four pierogi. I folded them the way Babcia Rose taught me, the slight crimp at the edge, place seam-side down. Twelve of them were right. Twelve were acceptable. Patty boiled them and sauteed them in butter and we ate them standing at the stove, the way you eat things you have just made, before anyone else gets to them. They were good. They were not Babcia Rose's. They were mine, which is a different thing, which will have to be enough.

Patty said, while we were eating: she would be pleased. I said: do you think so? She said: she showed you on purpose. She showed you every year on purpose. She knew. I did not know what to say to that so I had another pierogi instead, which I think is the correct response to things that are too large for words.

I brought cranberry sauce to Sunday dinner at Steve's. Patty asked if I needed a recipe. I said I had one. She said "yours or hers?" I said: mine, from mine. She nodded. This is how traditions get passed. Not transferred, exactly. Built alongside. Until one day the building is yours.

I brought cranberry sauce that Sunday because I had a recipe I called mine, and it felt right to keep doing that — showing up with something I had made, something I had learned and then made my own version of. The creamed corn is the same kind of dish for me: a holiday table staple I first made because someone else always made it, and then one year I made it myself, and now I make it every time. It is not complicated. It is just the kind of thing that fills a table and makes the room feel the way it is supposed to feel.

Creamed Corn with Peas

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 4 cups fresh or frozen corn kernels (about 5–6 ears if using fresh)
  • 1 cup frozen peas
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 1 small yellow onion, finely diced
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 cup heavy cream
  • 1/2 cup whole milk
  • 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon granulated sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
  • 2 tablespoons fresh chives or flat-leaf parsley, chopped (for garnish)

Instructions

  1. Soften the aromatics. Melt butter in a large skillet or saucepan over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more, until fragrant.
  2. Build the cream base. Sprinkle the flour over the onion mixture and stir to coat. Cook for 1 minute to eliminate the raw flour taste. Slowly pour in the heavy cream and milk, whisking constantly to prevent lumps. Bring to a gentle simmer.
  3. Add the corn. Stir in the corn kernels, sugar, salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook, stirring occasionally, until the mixture thickens and the corn is tender, about 10–12 minutes.
  4. Finish with peas. Stir in the frozen peas during the last 2–3 minutes of cooking, just until heated through and bright green. Taste and adjust seasoning with additional salt and pepper as needed.
  5. Serve. Transfer to a serving dish and garnish with chopped chives or parsley. Serve immediately alongside your holiday spread.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 280 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 210mg

Amanda Kowalczyk
About the cook who shared this
Amanda Kowalczyk
Week 451 of Amanda’s 30-year story · Chicago, Illinois
Amanda is a special ed teacher in Chicago, a mom of three-year-old twins, and a woman who lost her best friend to a fentanyl overdose at twenty-one. She cooks on a budget that would make a Whole Foods cashier weep — feeding a family of four for under seventy-five dollars a week — because she believes good food doesn't require a fancy kitchen or a fancy paycheck. She finished Babcia Rose's gołąbki after the funeral because that's what Babcia would have wanted. That's who Amanda is.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?