fly on the wall

There’s a trap I fall into sometimes, and it’s called “life is so perfect for everybody else.” As in, nobody else’s hair frizzes into an ‘fro when August rolls around, or struggles to stay in shape, or gets obsessed with celebrity gossip in lieu of keeping up with their perusal of Nabokov short stories. Nobody at work sits at their desk cursing their job responsibilities, and nobody overdraws on their bank accounts or screws up their first attempt at home haircolor. Right? It’s so easy to romanticize, even when your good sense chides you for playing such a ridiculous mental game.

And then I discovered the food blogosphere, which is like being James Stewart in Rear Window. Except it’s a million little windows into the lives of others, and these people know they’re being watched. There’s an intimidating polish and structure to the whole thing. It’s not a complaint, really—I’ve found honest, sincere friends and incalculable inspiration here, after all—but it’s rare for someone to chat about a spectacular flop in the kitchen, or the mind-numbingly boring sandwich they eat everyday at noon.

But I’m feeling generous, and I want to invite you to be a fly on the wall. You can perch yourself right by my dinner table. (If you’re lucky, it will be set with silverware and wine glasses, but don’t get your heart set on it.) Last night, you would’ve seen us shuck our fresh CSA corn and slice it clean off the cob. We sautéed it with garlic, then blended it smooth with pine nuts and Parmesan—an earthy, mind-blowing version of traditional basil pesto. It was warmed in a skillet with a tangle of fettuccine and chopped basil, and crunchy, salty bits of bacon went on top, because there’s not much that isn’t improved by bacon bits. It was so pretty, and so belly-warming, and you would’ve witnessed all that. It’s the truth.

Well, part of it, anyway. Over our plates of gourmet pasta, as we sat around on Friday night in our pajamas, you would’ve seen us talk animatedly about vitamin deficiencies for the duration of the meal. There was a heated debate about one’s current-day risk of developing pellagra, and some shrill raised voices, and a lot of unattractive snorts of laughter. (As a tangent, we considered if Koko would get pellagra if we replaced her kibble with corn.) Why pellagra? Probably in honor of supper’s star ingredient. Or maybe just because we’re weird. But isn’t that the beauty of real life, and of real dinners? Both are only as good—and as fun—as the strange, silly people we share them with.

FETTUCCINE WITH FRESH CORN PESTO
Serves 4
Adapted from Bon Appétit

Ingredients
- 4 slices bacon, diced
- 4 cups fresh corn kernels (sliced from about 6 large ears)
- 1 large garlic clove, minced
- 1 1/4 tsp. salt
- 3/4 tsp. black pepper, freshly ground
- 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
- 1/3 cup pine nuts, toasted
- 1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
- 8 oz. fettuccine or tagliatelle
- 3/4 cup coarsely-torn basil leaves, divided

Preparation
1) In a large skillet, cook diced bacon over medium heat until it begins to brown and crisp. Transfer bacon bits to a plate lined with paper towels, and discard all but 1 Tbsp. fat from skillet.
2) Add corn, garlic, salt and pepper to skillet, cooking for about 4 minutes. Corn kernels should be tender but not yet browned.
3) Reserve a quarter of the corn mixture, transferring the rest to the work bowl of a food processor. To the work bowl, add pine nuts and Parmesan; pulse briefly, then add olive oil through the feed tube and process until pesto is almost smooth.
4) Cook the pasta according to package instructions. Drain, reserving one cup of the starchy pasta water.
5) Return pasta to cooking pot, adding reserved corn, corn pesto, and 1/2 cup of the basil leaves. Stir mixture gently over medium heat until warmed through, adding small amounts of pasta water if the sauce gets too thick. Season with extra pepper to taste.
6) Serve pasta topped with bacon bits, remaining 1/4 cup basil, and extra Parmesan as desired.