Growing up in central New Jersey, I was very much in tune with seasonal agriculture. Farms are surprisingly plentiful in the area, just a few dozen miles from New York City. I kid you not, little ol’ Jersey, the fifth smallest state in the union, is actually one of the biggest agricultural producers in the United States (#11 this year). Famous New Jersey tomatoes certainly get their due, but corn is the true regional all-star. So, if you’re among those who wonder why New Jersey is called the Garden State, it’s not “because it’s too hard to fit ‘Oil and Petrochemical Refinery State’ on a license plate,” as suggested by Gracie Hart from Miss Congeniality.

I visited these farm stands every Sunday growing up in NJ, and when my grandma came up from Virginia, my dad and I would always take her to get Jersey corn. Long before Serious Eats editorial director Daniel Gritzer tested the very best ways to cook corn, my family was popping half-shucked ears into the microwave. But I hadn’t considered that corn could be a fantastic flavoring agent until I moved to New York for college. As my culinary world expanded, so did my appreciation for the versatility of corn. I discovered the joys of cereal milk ice cream, raw corn in tomato salads, and sweet corn pudding. Corn has become a regular part of my savory cooking, though it was less common in my desserts—until now.

Corn crème brûlée is truly the essence of summer corn—sweet but not too sweet and creamy but not too rich. The heavy cream, milk, and blended corn kernels harmonize in a lighter than expected way. And then there’s the caramelized crust. My colleagues can attest that I’ve been eager to brûlée something for a while. In the food corner of TikTok, all sorts of sweet and savory foods are being torched, from lemon posset to mashed potatoes, for reasons that remain unclear. OK, maybe because it’s FUN to wield a blowtorch.

But what about something that is actually meant to be brûléed? Enter my corn crème brûlée: a traditional choice with a twist. Now that the corn husks have settled and the butane tank is empty, I have a summertime corn recipe I’ll be proud to serve again and again. Read on for my tips on making this summery dessert and for the full recipe. 

4 Tips for Making the Best Corn Crème Brûlée

1. Get the freshest, in-season sweet corn. Fresh corn is the key to getting the pure corn flavor to infuse your milk, so make sure you get the good stuff. Check your corn by peeling off some of the husks before you buy it. Make sure it’s not rotting or mushy. If you’re still unsure, just taste a few kernels. Would you eat this raw? If the answer is yes, then you’re good to go. More on what to look for in our guide to Field Corn vs. Sweet Corn.
2. Choose the right vessel. You need a shallow, wide baking dish for the maximum amount of crackling caramelized sugar. I chose round brûlée dishes, but feel free to go with the traditional oval shape. They’re great for other small desserts, too. Regular six-ounce, oven-safe ramekins will work here too; just increase the bake time by five to 10 minutes.
3. Use enough sugar in the topping. The amount of sugar you’ll need depends on the surface area of your baking dish. Be sure you use enough, or your caramelized sugar crust will not brown evenly. Nobody wants that! And the thicker your layer of sugar, the thicker the layer of caramelized crust. But while you shouldn’t use too little sugar, you also shouldn’t use too much: A shatteringly crisp crust that cracks with a spoon is what you’re after, so don’t overdo it or you’ll end up with a topping that’s too hard to break through.
4. Use a blowtorch. There are various kitchen torches available in different sizes and price ranges, so get one that works for you. I am confident that you will find a reason to use it again. Start slowly with your torching until you get comfortable. Gently swirl the flame over the sugar until it melts together and then begins to brown. It’s fun! You can experiment with how dark you want your crust to be. When you’re done and the crust has cooled, you should be able to “clink-clink” your spoon before it cracks. It’s very satisfying.