Street Corn Pasta Salad

Memorial Day. The second one on this blog. Last year I talked about the men from Harlan County who served. This year I'm thinking about the ones who are serving now, and the ones who might serve soon, and the one who lives in my house and eats my food and might — might — walk through a door that leads to a place where people shoot at each other.

I didn't serve. I went into the mines instead, which was a different kind of service — service to the coal company, service to the family, service to the economy of a county that had no other economy. Earl didn't serve either. His brother Roy did — Korea, 1951-1953, came home with a Purple Heart and a drinking problem and died in 1990 of cirrhosis. The Hensley men who served didn't talk about it. The Hensley men who didn't serve didn't ask. The silence around military service in our family is a dome, sealed and pressurized.

We had a cookout. Smaller this year — just us, Travis, Jolene. I smoked a pork shoulder. Twelve hours, the one I wrote about in March, the recipe that's becoming my signature. The pulled pork was good — better than March's, because practice makes perfect and because I added a splash of apple cider vinegar to the finished meat, which brightened it the way rain brightens a garden.

I also made coleslaw, which I haven't talked about yet and which is essential to pulled pork in the way that air is essential to breathing. Betty's coleslaw: shredded cabbage and carrots, dressed with a mixture of Duke's mayo, apple cider vinegar, sugar, salt, and celery seed. That's it. No raisins, no apples, no exotic additions. Coleslaw is not a place for creativity. Coleslaw is a place for precision: the ratio of mayo to vinegar must be exactly right — enough acidity to cut the richness of the pork, enough creaminess to coat the cabbage, enough sugar to balance both.

Clay ate pulled pork on white bread with coleslaw on top, which is the correct way: bread, meat, slaw, repeat. He ate four sandwiches. Then he said, without preamble and without context: "I want to talk to the recruiter again." He said it to the table, not to me, not to Connie, not to anyone specifically. He said it to the air and waited for the air to answer. The air didn't answer. I said "Okay." Connie said nothing. Travis, who was mid-bite, stopped chewing and looked at me with a face that said: this is big. Yeah, Travis. I know it's big. Pass the slaw.

The coleslaw is Betty’s recipe and it’s not going anywhere — it belongs on top of the pork, in that order, full stop. But I made this street corn pasta salad for the first time earlier this spring, and it showed up again on Monday because a table of five needs more than two things on it, and because when everything else feels too big to talk about, feeding people is the one thing I know how to do without second-guessing myself. Bright from the lime, smoky from the char, rich enough to stand up to a plate of pulled pork without rolling over — it filled the space on the table without competing for it. That’s all I needed it to do.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes (plus 30 minutes chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

12 oz rotini or elbow pasta
4 ears corn, husked (or 3 cups frozen corn, thawed and patted dry)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 red onion, finely diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 jalapeño, seeded and minced
1/2 cup fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
3/4 cup cotija cheese, crumbled and divided
1/2 cup mayonnaise (Duke’s preferred)
1/4 cup sour cream
3 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 2 limes)
1 teaspoon chili powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon salt, plus more for pasta water
1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Drain and rinse thoroughly under cold water to stop cooking. Transfer to a large mixing bowl and let cool completely.
Char the corn. Brush corn ears with olive oil. Grill over high heat, turning every 2 minutes, for 8–10 minutes total, until kernels are charred in spots. Alternatively, broil on a sheet pan 4 inches from the element, turning once, for about 10 minutes. Let cool, then cut kernels from the cob directly into the bowl with the pasta.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together mayonnaise, sour cream, lime juice, chili powder, smoked paprika, garlic powder, salt, and pepper until smooth.
Combine. Add red onion, bell pepper, jalapeño, cilantro, and half the cotija to the pasta and corn. Pour the dressing over the top and toss until everything is evenly coated.
Chill. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes to let the flavors come together. The pasta will absorb some of the dressing as it sits — if it looks dry before serving, stir in a spoonful of sour cream or a squeeze of lime.
Finish and serve. Transfer to a serving bowl and scatter the remaining cotija over the top. Serve cold or at room temperature alongside pulled pork, on its own, or straight from the bowl in the refrigerator at midnight because today was a lot.

Nutrition (per serving)

Street Corn Pasta Salad — Pass the Slaw and Don’t Ask