Who's the Queen of the Block Party?

It's a little hot yet, but block-party season is coming up soon. And every successful block party usually has a leader, the neighbor who gets it organized, remembers the nametags and the chalk for drawing on the streets, and sets the standard for bringing out the best food.

We want to salute the block-party queens and learn their secrets. So I need you to turn them in: E-mail your nomination to me at kpurvis@charlotteobserver.com. Please include the person's name and a way to contact her.

Remember, a true Block Party Queen is a benevolent dictator who makes everyone feel welcome and useful in her court.

Best of Summer: Creamed Corn

It looks like a scale model of a medieval torture device. But when the good corn comes in at the farmers markets, it's time to dig into the back of the cabinet and pull it out, all evil and gleaming.

It's a corn stripper, and I actually have two, both gifts from my mother-in-law. One had a wooden trough and was attractive but not all that practical. The one I really use looks a little mean, with its shiny metal rack and the hole in the middle with a razor-sharp blade on one side and a stubby bar on the other.

I seriously love creamed corn. Not that nasty pasty stuff from the can. In the summers, my mother made terrific creamed corn, always fresh and corny. We went through whole black-iron skillets of it. When I picture a good summer supper, it's always on the table along with a platter of sliced tomatoes and cucumbers cut up with vinegar.

The tricks to good creamed corn are really good corn -- very fresh, with plump kernels -- and a corn stripper. The stripper skims across the top of the kernels, slicing off the tender part, while the metal bar below the hole scrapes across the cut kernels and extracts the milky juice. Getting plenty of that juice is important. The natural starch in it is what thickens the creamed corn.

My mother has told me about the darkest days of the Depression, when my grandmother had seven mouths to feed that included two growing teenage boys. Sometimes she was so short on provisions, she didn't have milk to make creamed corn and had to use water. But they always had big skillets of corn.

I think of that whenever I make a skilletful. I have the luxury of milk, added in several additions. I usually start with butter, although my mother almost certainly started with a dollop of bacon grease from the can on the back of the stove. I add salt and plenty of black pepper, and a splash of milk. Never sugar, though: That's the kind of thing my mother would have sniffed at. If the corn is worth cooking, it's sweet enough.

Then I cook it slowly, stirring often so it doesn't stick. As it thickens, I'll add a little more milk, sort of like making risotto. It can take 20 minutes or so until it's creamy and cooked through.

Then it's ready to dish up and put out on the table, with sliced tomatoes and something simple like chicken breasts or pork chops. Or maybe no meat at all, just a table full of great produce surrounding a skillet of corn.

I know plenty of good corn dishes -- succotashes and hashes and chowders. And just corn on the cob with chile powder and lime has its pleasures. But when the corn stripper comes down from the back of the cabinet, it's a sign: Summer is here.

Eating in Asheville: Aye to the Admiral

I don't ask for much from a restaurant meal: Great ingredients, well-prepared. A little thought put into it. And I like flavors so strong, they grab and hold my attention enough to make me want to ignore everything and just live in that moment for a little while.

I made my second visit to The Admiral in Asheville recently. It's a strange little restaurant in what looks like it used to be a gas station. It's in West Asheville on Haywood, at what some people call Five Points. Parking is a dice-toss that might leave you circling for a few blocks.

I'd call the interior tawdry-chic: Dark, with a low ceiling, lots of repurposed vintage furniture and touches of yellow and red lighting. There's an old Budweiser sign with neon strategically blacked out so it appears to spell "dive." The cooking line is three guys behind a counter, laboring with intense choreography to turn out a short menu of small plates, entrees and a short list of desserts.

I stick with small plates, to have more room to try things. Pork belly has almost worn out its welcome on menus, but this version took it back to what I originally liked about it: A surprisingly large square of belly, cooked soft on the inside and crisped and sticky on the outside, served on top of red potato salad with crisp fried onions. It was a mixture of creamy, sticky, cool and crisp.

My husband settled on a full-size plate of diver scallops with a vanilla-sweet corn sauce.

But the dish that grabbed my attention was the Ethiopian Beef Tartare. Yes, raw beef can be risky, but if they're willing to serve it, I was willing to try it. It involved raw egg, too. So sue me.

It arrived on a rough, wooden cutting board: A pile of minced red beef mixed with red spices. A little indentation on top with a raw quail egg. A dab of creamy fresh goat cheese. A pile of crisp, hot, french fries. And a small pool of a sweet, fruity house-made ketchup.

The beef was mixed with so much spice, it was intensely hot and salty, almost painful to eat. Just when it got overwhelming, you could mix in a cooling, creamy bit of goat cheese, or a little of the ketchup, or a break from the crispy fries. Every bite was different, every combination a change-up.

It was a little scary and a little dangerous, and it tasted like comfort food in hell. I loved every bite of it.

It was so intense, the powerfully flavorful ginger-lime creme brulee I picked for dessert almost tasted bland. It was so affecting, I was still thinking about it a week later.

That's a restaurant experience worth my bill.

The Admiral, 400 Haywood Road, Asheville, 828-252-2541, theadmiralnc.com. Dinner only, 5-10 p.m. Monday-Saturday. Reservations strongly suggested. The menu features local, seasonal products, so it changes frequently. Small plates range from $6 to $12; entrees are in the $25 range.

Love for Charlotte: Michael Voltaggio shout-out

Charlotte got a little tap from Michael Voltaggio, one of the "BroVos" and the winner of season 6 of "Top Chef."

In the July issue of Food & Wine, the Volt gave his own Top 10 list. Under "regret," this was his answer:

"I wish I'd learned to play an instrument. There's a piano in the Charlotte, North Caroina, airport, right near the food court. Random people sit down and play and fill the airport with music. I always wish I could just sit down at that piano and start playing."

Aw, chef! That's as sweet as an airport full of rocking chairs. But surely a chef can do "Chopsticks."

Today in Food: More on Matthews and plates

If my column inspires you to visit the Matthews Community Farmers' Market, this weekend's 20th anniversary celebration on Saturday morning will include free cupcakes, prints of a market painting by NoDa artist David Thayer French, a grilled-pizza demo by Art Institute chef Joe Bonaparte, live music and speechifying. The market is at 188 N. Trade St. in Matthews. Details: www.matthewsfarmersmarket.com.

Also in today's food coverage: Andrea Weigl breaks down the new healthy-plates logo, and recipes for turkey keema, tuna steaks, apple pie and Gwyneth Paltrow's version of chicken stir-fry. Find all that at www.charlotteobserver.com/food.

Name that fruit: Ground cherry

I was finishing up my Saturday shopping at the Matthews Community Farmers Market the other day when manager Pauline Wood ran up and said, "You've got to taste this."

The name of the blog is I'll Bite, after all.

What she had found were tiny yellow fruits covered in a light green husk. They looked like very small tomatillos. But they didn't taste anything like them. Pauline described the flavor as crispy pear. I'd say sweet with a hint of pineapple.

What we had stumbled on were the first ground cherries I've seen in markets around here. Our confusion is understandable: They hide under a lot of names -- strawberry tomatoes, husk tomatoes, dwarf cape gooseberries. They are a member of the nightshade family, so they are distantly related to tomatoes, but nightshade is a mighty big family. The genus is Physalis in the solanaceae family. Apparently, green ones can make you sick, so don't try to forage for them unless you really know what you're getting.

Technically, a tomatillo is a cultivated ground cherry, so my first guess wasn't too far off. But ground cherries are much sweeter.

Latin and family matters aside, they are tasty little things, with a haunting, sweet flavor and crispy texture. Besides eating them raw or in a salad, you can make them into jam, bake them into little tarts, or dry them with a dehydrator. In a 2007 issue of Edible Boston, I found a suggestion from chef Anna Sortun to toss them in a pan with warm olive oil and use them in a stuffing with Serrano ham.

Whichever you do, you'll have to do it quickly. The vendor only brought them to let people sample them, and he expects to only have enough to sell them next Saturday. They're so rare in this market, he's s not even sure what to charge for them. If he has them, they'll be in the second tent from the entrance by the parking lot, next to the Community House.

Lee Brothers in your house

I was once doing a story on food in Charleston when I hooked up with Matt and Ted Lee for a couple of stops. They took me to one of the great fried-chicken places, a tiny joint called Martha Lou's. As we walked in the door, the guy behind the counter hollered out, "Lee Brothers in the HOUSE!"



OK, long way to explain that South Carolina is having a contest where you actually can win Lee Brothers in your house, to cook for your supper club. The S.C. Department of Agriculture is sponsoring "Lee Brother Your Supper," a campaign to encourage people to buy certified S.C. produce and products.

Through July 31, you can enter the free drawing to win a supper-club dinner cooked by Matt and Ted using all-S.C. food. (Your supper club event must be held in South Carolina for no more than 50 people.) There will also be weekly drawings for T-shirts and copies of their newest book, "Simple Fresh Southern." Get an entry form online at www.leebrotheryoursupper.com. If you're not from South Carolina, you still can get daily Lee Brothers recipes and cooking tips.

Photo: grubstreet.com.