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Mexican Sweet Corn Cake — The corn that was already on the counter

Mid-July. The post-publication life is settling into a new normal that includes: writing for the blog (weekly), writing for the magazine (monthly), writing the second book (daily, in the mornings), teaching yoga (four classes a week), raising Miya (always), visiting Ken (bimonthly), calling Barbara (Sundays), stirring the nukazuke (daily), making miso soup (every morning, without exception, the practice that anchors everything). The list is long. The list is the life. The life is full.

I made kakiage — mixed vegetable tempura, the lacy fritters — with summer corn, shiso, and shrimp. The fritters were golden and irregular, each one unique, the way every week of the blog is unique, the way every morning of miso soup is unique even though the recipe is the same. The sameness holds the uniqueness. The uniqueness inhabits the sameness. Both are true. Both are the cooking.

The second book is progressing — the Barbara chapter is drafted, the Fumiko chapter is revised, the chapter about the space between is taking shape. The space-between chapter is the hardest because the space between is where I live and the living is too close to the writing, the writing too close to the living, and the closeness makes it difficult to see clearly, the way you cannot see your own face without a mirror. The writing is the mirror. The mirror is showing me a woman who has spent her whole life in the doorway between two kitchens and has, finally, at thirty-eight, decided the doorway is the room. The doorway is where I live. The doorway is furnished. The doorway has a stove.

Miya has started reading independently in Japanese — not just recipe cards but children's books, short stories, the Japanese equivalent of the chapter books she devours in English. The bilingualism is no longer a project. The bilingualism is just Miya, the way the cooking is just me, the language absorbed into identity, the practice become the person. She switches between English and Japanese at the dinner table the way I switch between kabocha and kale, the toggle natural, the transition seamless, the both-ness complete.

The corn I used in the kakiage came from a full bag — more ears than fritters, the way summer always overshoots — and the leftovers sat on the counter the way good ingredients do, asking to be used. This Mexican Sweet Corn Cake felt like the natural answer: golden, soft, a little irregular in that same lacy way, sweet in the way that summer corn is sweet before you even add sugar. It is the kind of recipe that does not demand attention, which is exactly what I needed on a morning when the book chapter and the yoga class and the miso soup were all pulling at once — a recipe that holds its own shape while you tend to everything else.

Mexican Sweet Corn Cake

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
  • 1/3 cup masa harina (corn flour)
  • 1/4 cup water
  • 2 cups fresh or frozen corn kernels, divided
  • 1/4 cup cornmeal
  • 1/3 cup granulated sugar
  • 2 tablespoons heavy cream
  • 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt

Instructions

  1. Preheat oven. Heat oven to 350°F. Lightly grease an 8-inch square baking dish and set aside.
  2. Make the masa base. Beat softened butter in a stand mixer or with a hand mixer on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add masa harina and water and mix until a soft dough comes together.
  3. Blend half the corn. Place 1 cup of the corn kernels in a blender or food processor and pulse until coarsely chopped but not fully smooth. Stir the blended corn into the masa mixture.
  4. Mix the batter. In a separate bowl, stir together cornmeal, sugar, heavy cream, baking powder, and salt. Add to the masa mixture and stir to combine. Fold in the remaining 1 cup whole corn kernels.
  5. Bake. Spread batter evenly into the prepared dish. Cover tightly with foil and bake for 40 to 50 minutes, until the center is just set and a toothpick comes out with moist crumbs (not wet batter).
  6. Rest and serve. Remove from oven and let stand, still covered, for 10 minutes before scooping and serving. The cake will firm slightly as it rests.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 23g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 105mg

Jen Nakamura
About the cook who shared this
Jen Nakamura
Week 379 of Jen’s 30-year story · Portland, Oregon
Jen is a forty-year-old yoga instructor and divorced mom in Portland who traded panic attacks for plants and never looked back. She's Japanese-American on her father's side — third-generation, with a family history that includes wartime internment and generational silence — and white on her mother's. Her cooking is plant-forward, intuitive, and deeply influenced by both her Japanese grandmother's techniques and the Pacific Northwest farmers market she visits every Saturday rain or shine. Which in Portland means mostly rain.

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