In the food departments of your local stores you should be able to locate the fruit Specialties put up by J. M. Allen Company, Rancho Drive, Route 4, Box 345E, San Jose, California: Bright-red cinnamon pears, bright-green mimed pears, sweet pickled cantaloupe and watermelon rings, sweet pickled apricots and pears, stuffed oranges, and old-fashioned orange slices. If your dealer hasn't this line and you would like to sample, write direct to the packer for the ＄5.95 package, postage prepaid. The gift box contains four 17-ounce thin-blown zombie glasses, the safe-edge kind and re-usable, measuring 8 inches tall, filled with your choice of the specialties.
Say “shoe peg” to a Baltimore cook and she says right back. “You mean corn, of course?” And of course you do if you live in the shoe-peg country in Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Delaware. The Amish in the Pennsylvania valleys grow the most acres of this special corn, and a corn like no other. The kernels are peg-shaped, they vary in size, the rows are uneven. The name was given when the corn was first discovered in Maryland in 1890 because the kernels looked like the little white hickory pegs shoemakers used to nail soles onto boots.This corn is produced and canned almost exclusively in Maryland and Pennsylvania but distributed through the East and into the Middle West.
The eating of shoe peg is something, the kernels between the teeth so firm and milk-filled and very sweet. The reason for the extra milk is that the kernels, pointed at the cob end, cut off at the point; the knife doesn't slash into the milk sac as happens with wide kernels set deep to the cob. There isn't a lot of this corn packed, only about two million cases a year packed by fourteen canneries. Never mind the brand names, just ask for shoe peg. In this instance the name of the corn family is played above the name of the packer. And shoe peg canners want it that way. They have founded an association, their purpose to further the world's interest in this gourmet item. The group has agreed that the corn be harvested and packed in a manner to protect its full goodness, and all abide by the rules.
It is not epicurean fanaticism which insists that sweet corn begins to lose its flavor immediately after it is picked. There is a scientific reason back of the statement. The tenderness of corn is due to the low quality of starch in the kernels and the flavor is due to the large amount of sugar while the ears are in the stalk. Enzymatic activity is constantly converting the sugar in the kernels to starch, but at the same time new sugar is constantly coming into the ears from the leaves. When you pull the ear, you do not stop the enzymatic transformation of sugar into starch, and the longer the corn stands around after being pulled, the tougher and starchier it gets and the more flavor it loses.
Shoe-peg packers insist on speed between the field and the can. Any corn that has been off the parent stem more than a few hours has lost caste as a shoe-peg treat.
We aren't saying it's the best corn canned but we are telling you it's a taste experience and if you don't know shoe peg, try to get hold of a tin.
In the fancy-food departments along the West Coast are wonderful marmalades and whole fruit preserves made of fruits of the region, laved in smooth syrups. Numerous ones of these glamor put-ups are available mail order direct from the maker. Edward S. Miller of Ontario, California, is one who has developed an extensive mail-order business with his fruit preserves, marmalades, and chutney. His most appealing pack carries five 10-ounce jars and includes one each of a Natal Plum Jam, Cape Gooseberry Preserve, Calamondin Orange Marmalade. Green Passion Fruit Jam, and Apricot Chutney. Speaking of apricot reminds us that at Hollister, California, we wandered through an apricot orchard in harvest season and picked the tree-ripened fruit from the branch, eating all we could hold. Apricots lay in golden masses at the foot of the trees like pools reflecting the setting sun. By the way, if you want to sample any of the Miller assortments, address Edward S. Miller, West Main Street, Ontario. California.
Something new has happened to that age-old product, root of the ginger. K. P. Kwan, a young Chinese with a B. A. from Ohio Wesleyan and an M. A. from Chicago University, looking around for a business venture, had a bright idea and put it to test. He is preparing the preserved ginger root ready-crushed for the baker, for the ice cream maker, the confectioner, or for use in marmalades.
The new product is 70 per cent ginger, 30 per cent cane syrup—and without fiber. How can that be? The ginger root employed for the product is too young to have started growing its “hairs.” Packed for home cooks in 2-pound 12-ounce jars, ＄2.49 at Charles and Company, 340 Madison Avenue, New York.
So easy to use. Dip out a few spoonfuls to pass with the curry, mix it into ice cream, use it to layer a cake, add a dab to fruit salad. It's just this side of hot and of fine, fine grind.
Sea urchin caviar is packed for the first time, and utterly different. A sea urchin, in case you don't know, is that odd little green chestnut-burrlike creature of the sea, which comes to the market in limited quantities between October and April and is seldom seen in fish markets outside Italian districts.
The Italians have for years enjoyed the urchin's sweet roe of the delicate orange tinge. Eaters knife off the burr top, dip into the roe, and spread over fresh crusty bread, washing down bites of this fishy repast with red wine.
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