Creamed Corn Deserves Better. This Recipe Proves It.

I have a proposition, and the purists aren’t going to like it: It's time to put the cream back in creamed corn. 

Yes, it's true that the cans of gloppy "creamed corn" on the grocery store shelf are dairy-free, containing just corn and its effluence (and often, some added sugar). "Creamed" is a texture, not an ingredient list. 

And there's an elegance to that simplicity! Long before canned corn made its way to grocery store shelves, Indigenous cooks were making a version with just corn and "corn milk"—that sweet, starchy slurry of pulverized corn kernels and juice. 

But augmenting that corn milk with a bit of cream can lend luxury to the dish, creating a velvety sauce that clings to each corn kernel. You may be tempted to lighten up the proceedings with whole milk or half-and-half, but I don't recommend that route—the result will look less like creamed corn and more like corn in a bowl of milk. Instead, I use an equal amount of heavy cream and sour cream to ensure each kernel is coated in a silky, starchy liquid that complements the corn's natural sugars and starches with a little acidic punch. 

From there, the dish is endlessly customizable—you can add alliums such as onions, garlic, or scallions, cheese, and any fresh herbs you like. But for this recipe, I'm leaning into my Iowa heritage (this is a corn recipe, after all), and suggesting you adopt the flavors of a classic Midwest party dip. You heard me: party corn.

If you go to a tailgate or potluck in Iowa, odds are you'll encounter "Party Dip," a sour cream-based chip dip that Midwest dairy Anderson-Erickson has sold since the 1960s. 

You may naturally be wondering, "What does a party taste like?" And the answer, at least according to the ingredients on the container, is like confetti flecks of onion, red bell pepper, and parsley. 

The flavor profile is a natural fit for corn—the finely minced red bell pepper calls to mind maque choux (a classic Louisiana dish of stewed corn and peppers) while the other ingredients—minced onion, a little cayenne, some optional MSG—lean into the chip dip gag without overwhelming the sweetness of fresh summer corn. 

Whether you go full party corn or not, I strongly recommend blitzing at least a cup of the mixture in a blender or with an immersion blender to finish. Don't overdo it—a few pulses will do. You're after a slurry of crushed kernels that will add texture and a final burst of starch and sugar to the dish. This step is especially important if you're using frozen corn and missing out on the corn milk. 

The final touch is a heavy sprinkle of chopped flat-leaf parsley, which adds a festive color and jaunty freshness. There's a time and a place for simplicity. But that time and place is not summer in Iowa, where fresh sweet corn is a weed and "party" is a flavor. This is your invitation to join.