Food: Mellow yellow

Given my share of lottery money and a one-way ticket, right now, I'd head to Andalusia, or anywhere else on the Mediterranean coast. As well as being privilege to interminably long, cool and sunny days, they get all the late-summer produce that goes with them. Just as supplies here start to dwindle, France and Spain will be revelling in late-season tomatoes, beans and sweetcorn. And a lot of it finds its way over here.

But my first-ever experience of French corn wasn't the greatest. It was based on the advice that "you can stroll out to the corn patch but run back". This is in order to capture your corn on the cob at its sweetest before the sugars turn to starch, and is obviously dependent on having a garden backing onto a corn field, which I don't.

However, while camping in France as a child, there was a field nearby where the plants rustled as they swayed in the breeze, laden with fat cobs that, to a child's understanding, said "pick me". So my brothers and I duly did so and rushed our illegal bounty back to mum who did the motherly thing and cooked them. How were we to know it was destined for cattle fodder and fit only for Friesians? Imagine the disappointment.

Rather nicer than this first experience was the discovery of corn and colour during a tour of a greenhouse where cobs were laid out to dry. Peeling back the desiccated paper sheathes revealed kernels that were strawberry red, purple tinged with blue, marbled red and white, and some jazzy combinations that looked like a patchwork quilt.

These weren't for eating either, destined instead for Martha Stewart- style table decorations for that just-harvested look. Corn chips are the only edible blue corn I have found over here, and, just occasionally, rainbow popcorn on the wilder side of good taste. But I have only ever eaten sweetcorn in varying degrees of yellow - from bright daffodil to parchment.

There is no great need these days to rush your cobs from the field, as scientists have been busy creating ever more saccharogenic cobs that have been reborn as normal sugary, super sweet and sugar-enhanced, with names like "Sugar Daddy", "How Sweet It Is" and "Candy Store".

These are laden with several times the normal sugar content and designed to stay that way after harvest. But nothing in life is simple, including the sweetness of corn. They are not to everyone's taste, not least because the sweetness factor has taken over from good, old-fashioned corn flavour, and somewhere along the line the balance between the two seems to have gone awry.

Next is the business of finding corn in a state of "realness" - husks, silk and all. The way sweetcorn is packaged in supermarkets is almost comical. Of all vegetables, it defies taming, and there it is, tightly squeezed behind a film of polythene doing a peepshow act of revealing just a few yellow kernels to titillate he shopper.

The search is on for cobs that haven't been tampered with, where it is only by peeling back the outer husks and pulling away the silk that spills out in a tuft from the top that the shiny, plump kernels inside are revealed. You don't always get the perfect rows revealed by the cut-aways, but I can take the rough with the smooth on this count. And if you are planning a barbecue, the husk is essential.

When it comes to eating corn, I'll settle for being straight. I can't think of a better way of eating corn than boiled or barbecued on the cob (even in early October), with an orgy of butter dripping between the kernels as fingers, lips and chin become liberally greased in the process, with the empty core acting like a sponge to soak up any leftover butter as you wipe the plate clean. Corn and butter is a yellow marriage made in heaven.

All the best eating is messy. Who on earth invented those dinky prongs that simply interfere with the basic pleasure of burning your fingers in the rush of trying to eat it before it's cool enough? Whoever it was didn't get the point.

Boiled corn on the cob

Trim the corn of husks and silk and bring a large pan of water to the boil - don't salt the water as it toughens the kernels. The cooking time really depends on the type and freshness of the corn, although it's hard to overcook them, so don't worry about a few minutes here and there.

Barbecued corn on the cob

The sight of sunny yellow corn cobs lined up on the grill is attractive but produces tough kernels. The all-American way of cooking them is to first soak and then cook them in the husk. This not only ensures they steam to a lovely tenderness, but they gently infuse with the flavour of the husk and the barbecue at the same time. For this, you need heads complete with husks and silk, which may mean a trip to the greengrocer rather than the supermarket.

Carefully pull back the husks so they remain intact, attached at the base, and pull out the fine, hair-like silk. Return the husks to cover the cobs and tie them in place with string. Soak these in cold water for 30 minutes. Then squeeze out the excess water and barbecue them for 15-25 minutes.

Butters

All these butters can be served either with barbecued or boiled corn cobs and should serve four - less if you are someone who enjoys dipping and sucking the butter off the kernels as you go.

Unless it says otherwise, gently heat all the ingredients together in a small saucepan until the butter has melted, taking care not to fry the other ingredients.

Garlic butter

110g/4 oz unsalted butter

2 garlic cloves, pealed, finely chopped and crushed to a paste with salt

1 tbsp finely chopped flat-leaf parsley

2 tsp Pernod

squeeze of lemon juice

black pepper

Balsamic vinegar and tomato butter

110g/4 oz unsalted butter

sea salt, black pepper

12 tbsp, balsamic vinegar

1 beefsteak tomato, peeled, seeded and diced

1 very small basil leaf

Heat all the ingredients except the basil together. Liquidise them with the basil. Return to the saucepan to gently reheat.

Caper, mint and olive butter

110g/4 oz unsalted butter

1 tbsp finely chopped capers

1 tbsp finely chopped black olives

2 tsp finely chopped mint

sea salt, black pepper

Marjoram, chilli and soy butter

110g/4 oz unsalted butter

1 tsp finely chopped red chilli

2 heaped tsp finely chopped fresh marjoram

2 tsp light soy sauce

black pepper

Coriander and lime butter

Add the coriander at the end once the butter is warm.

110g/4 oz unsalted butter

12 tbsp lime juice

2 tsp light soy sauce

12 tsp caster sugar

black pepper

1 heaped tbsp finely chopped coriander

Creamed corn, serves 4

4 heads of corn

25g/1oz unsalted butter

1 onion, peeled and finely chopped

1 x 200ml pot creme fraiche

14 tsp freshly ground cumin

sea salt

black pepper

lemon juice

Remove the husks and silk from the heads of corn, and cut off the kernels by slicing down each head. Melt the butter in a saucepan and cook the onion with a pinch of salt until it is soft and translucent. Add the corn and continue to cook until it's a deep yellow and turning tender.

Add the creme fraiche and cumin, and cook covered for 10 minutes over a low heat until the corn is coated in a thickened cream sauce. Season with salt, pepper and a squeezed of lemon juice.

Sweetcorn soup with tarragon crisps, serves 4

Soup:

5 corn cobs

50g/2oz unsalted butter

150g/5oz shallots, peeled and finely chopped

1 litre/134 pt vegetable stock

sea salt, black pepper

freshly grated nutmeg

To serve: double cream

Strip the corn kernels from the cob using knife. Melt the butter in a saucepan and sweat the shallots over a low heat for 4 minutes. Add the corn, turn the heat up to medium and cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the stock, bring to the boil and simmer for 12 minutes: season with salt, pepper and nutmeg. Liquidise and pass through a sieve. Reheat, adjust seasoning and serve with a swirl of cream.

Tarragon crisps

peanut oil for deep-frying

1 baking potato cut into 1mm slices

65g/212oz unsalted butter

75g/3oz shallots, peeled and finely chopped

15g/12oz tarragon, chopped

12 tsp sea salt

Heat the oil until medium-hot. Rinse and dry the potato slices and deep- fry in batches until uniformly golden. Drain and cool on kitchen paper. Melt 50g/2oz of the butter and sweat the shallots for three minutes, then add the tarragon and cook for a further two minutes. Stir in the remaining butter. Sieve the tarragon butter into a bowl and stir in the salt. Paint the crisps sparingly with melted butter just before serving