Slow-Cooker Sriracha Corn

Memorial Day. I could not go to Bonaventure this year because the cemetery was limiting visitors, and my knees were telling me that even if I could go, the walk from the parking lot to Earl's grave and then to Michael's and then to Mama and Daddy's would be more than they could manage. So I did something different. I stood in Earl's garden, by the raised beds he built, and I said my Memorial Day prayers there.

I talked to Michael first. I told him about Kayla — how she's saving lives at Memorial, how she's exhausted and brave and in love with a paramedic. I told him she looks more like him every year. I told him the Cherokee Purples are growing and they're his and they'll always be his because Michael loved those tomatoes, loved the way they were ugly and beautiful at the same time.

I talked to Mama. I told her about the cooking classes I taught before the virus came. I told her about Pearl and Sapelo and Miss Cornelia who remembered her grandmother. I told her the cast iron skillet is still going strong. I told her the recipe box is full — full of her handwriting and Earl's notes and my additions and someday Kayla's.

I talked to Earl. I told him I planted the garden. I told him the stakes are crooked. I told him I miss his chair by the beds and his voice telling me the tomatoes need water. I told him Amara says "Gah-gah" now. I told him the recliner is still in the living room. I told him the catfish dinner is finished — I finished it, Earl, I finished it in February, with the whole family, with your plate set and your tea poured and your son saying what you would have said. I told him I love him. I tell him that every day. But Memorial Day is for saying it out loud.

Made ribs on the grill. James Sr.'s dry rub. Low and slow. Five hours, alone, the smoke rising into the Savannah sky. I ate them on the porch and the sauce got on my chin and I didn't wipe it. Memorial Day ribs. For the living and the dead.

Now go on and feed somebody.

James Sr.’s dry rub and five hours of smoke will do the heavy lifting on the ribs — but a Memorial Day spread in Savannah needs a side that can take care of itself while you’re out in the garden saying the things that need saying out loud. This slow-cooker sriracha corn has been on my porch table more times than I can count: sweet from the cob, touched with heat, needing almost nothing from you except time. You set it and you go be where you need to be, and when you come back, it’s ready. That felt right this year.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 3 hrs | Total Time: 3 hrs 10 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

6 ears fresh corn, husked and halved crosswise
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces
2 tablespoons sriracha sauce
1 tablespoon honey
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons fresh cilantro or flat-leaf parsley, chopped (for serving)
Lime wedges, for serving

Instructions

Make the glaze. In a small bowl, stir together the butter pieces, sriracha, honey, garlic, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper until combined.
Load the slow cooker. Place the corn halves into a 6-quart slow cooker. Spoon and spread the sriracha butter mixture evenly over the corn, turning pieces to coat.
Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 3 hours or on HIGH for 1 hour 30 minutes, turning the corn once halfway through, until the corn is tender and the glaze has thickened slightly around it.
Finish and serve. Transfer the corn to a serving platter and spoon any remaining glaze from the bottom of the slow cooker over the top. Scatter with fresh cilantro or parsley and serve with lime wedges alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Slow-Cooker Sriracha Corn — A Memorial Day Side for the Living and the Dead