Weekly R&R #008: Charred Elote-Style Corn Salad

Ingredients (Serves 6–8)

• 6 ears of corn, husked
• ⅓ cup Mexican crema (or sub: 3 tbsp sour cream + 2 tbsp mayo + a splash of lime juice)
• 4 tbsp fresh lime juice
• ½ tsp ground cumin
• ¾ tsp smoked paprika
• ½ tsp chili powder
• ¼ tsp black pepper
• ¼ tsp salt, plus more to taste
• ½ cup crumbled cotija cheese
• ½ red onion, minced
• ⅓–½ bunch fresh cilantro, chopped

Instructions

1. Prep the Corn
   • Shuck the corn by pulling down the green leaves and silks to expose the kernels, snapping off the stems if needed.
2. Grill the Corn
   • Preheat your grill to medium heat.
   • Add the corn and grill, turning occasionally, until each side is slightly charred — about 2–3 minutes per side (8–12 minutes total).
3. Cut the Kernels
   • Remove the corn from the grill and let it cool for a few minutes.
   • Holding the corn by the small end, cut off all the kernels and place them in a large mixing bowl.
4. Mix the Dressing
   • Add the crema, lime juice, cumin, smoked paprika, chili powder, black pepper, and salt to the corn.
5. Fold Everything Together
   • Add the crumbled cotija, minced red onion, and chopped cilantro.
   • Gently fold with a rubber spatula until evenly coated. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
6. Serve
   • Enjoy slightly warm, at room temperature, or chilled.
   • Garnish with extra cotija, cilantro leaves, and lime wedges for serving.

This corn salad takes me back to the first Thanksgiving I ever hosted. I wasn’t trying to reinvent the holiday; I just wanted to make a side dish that felt memorable, less messy than whole ears of corn, and easy enough to prep ahead of time in a crowded kitchen. I found this recipe online, made it the day before, and served it cold — a bright, creamy pile of charred corn alongside the classics.

What I didn’t expect was how quickly it became a fixture. That first Thanksgiving, it was the most talked-about side on the table. Over the years it’s followed me to other dinners and cookouts, morphing from a simple solution into one of my most reliable staples. I’ve served it as a standalone side, spooned it onto tacos, even set it out as a dip with chips. It’s one of those dishes that’s equally at home at a holiday table or a casual gathering. 

Part of its staying power comes from how unassuming it is. Grill, chop, mix — that’s all it takes. But beneath the simplicity is a balance of flavors that feels like summer in every bite: smoky, tangy, creamy, bright. It’s make-ahead friendly, travels well, and disappears fast — all the qualities you hope for in a dish you bring to someone else’s table.

It’s the kind of dish that clears a path for connection. Because it’s make-ahead friendly and essentially takes care of itself, I’m free to step back from the stove and actually enjoy the gathering. Instead of darting between burners or fussing with timing, I can pour a drink, pass plates, and watch people help themselves — the quiet reward of seeing something you made become part of the gathering. That’s why I keep it in rotation: it gives me room to focus on the people I’m feeding, instead of the food the cooking.