A proper ant-venture into Oaxacan summer
Chicatana ants — those big meaty ones that swarm in summer — are a proper delicacy in the Central Valleys, toasted and salted like the finest caviar. I've paired them with baby corn (elote tierno, tender and sweet) and a coffee mayo that sounds mental but works: the bitterness cuts through the richness and echoes the earthiness of the ants themselves. It's the kind of thing that makes you go 'what was that?' on the second bite.
Whisk aquafaba with a pinch of salt until foamy (2 minutes). Dissolve the ground coffee in 5ml warm water, let cool. Start whisking the aquafaba again and add oil drop by drop — it'll emulsify like proper egg mayo. Once it's thick and pale, whisk in the cooled coffee and half the lime juice. Taste and adjust; it should be bright and bitter-sweet, not cloying.
Trim the silks and any brown spots. Gently peel back a layer or two of husk, revealing the pale kernels underneath — this is summer gold. Leave the husks partly attached for a rustic look.
Bring salted water to a boil. Drop the corn in for 3 minutes — you want them just tender, still with a touch of crunch. Drain and pat dry. Heat a cast-iron skillet or comal over medium-high heat, no oil. Place the corn in and let them kiss the heat for 2 minutes each side until faint char marks appear.
Coarsely grind or crush the toasted ants in a mortar; you want irregular bits, not powder. The insects should still have texture and presence.
Smear a small pool of coffee mayo on each plate. Arrange the charred baby corn over it, husks slightly splayed. Dust generously with the crushed chicatana salt. Squeeze the remaining lime juice over everything. Serve at room temperature with lime wedges on the side for added brightness.
“This is about contrast: white-pale mayo against the golden char of the corn, flecked with the dark insect salt. Keep it loose and organic — amuse-bouches shouldn't look like they've been ironed. The husks are edible and part of the visual; don't fuss with presentation. A squeeze of lime at the table lets the diner take control of their own acidity.”
First bite: sweet corn, the char adding a savoury whisper. The mayo arrives next, bitter coffee cutting through like a very smart vinaigrette. Then the ants — nutty, mineral, faintly gamey, almost saline — and the lime snaps everything into focus. By the end you're left with a lingering umami warmth and the faint aftertaste of earth. It's mad, but it works.
The coffee in the mayo echoes the roasted malt; the bitter ants meet the beer's depth without clashing
High acidity and mineral notes play beautifully with the lime and the insect salt; no oak to fight the coffee
The tartness mirrors the lime; the floral notes contrast with the coffee and insect funk in an entirely pleasing way
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