A little corny

I had big ideas for this installment – in fact too many and as it is now my plan for a weekly post has become a fortnight.  (Love an opportunity to use that word.)   Up until 10 minutes ago, I was prepared to write on a completely different topic, but as I bite into what is to be my final ear of corn for the season, the subject of today’s post became obviously clear – my life long obsession with corn.

I have been passionate about corn as long as I can remember.  My favorite episode of Sesame Street had a short where the young city girl visits some random older woman in the country and they pick the corn from the stock to eat at lunch. The closing frame was her huge toothless smile attempting to chop down on that farm fresh deliciousness.  On the rare occasion I was served Green Giant’s frozen corn in butter sauce, as a lazy starch alternative with dinner would fill me with glee.   My parents’ predilection for the best quality available also applied to produce.  Corn was not to be procured from our local, upscale, family run market, but rather Jack’s Farm Stand several towns away.  My mother would grill Jack on the taste and tenderness of the fresh picked Jersey corn, much the way I do to Kevin Smith of Sycamore Farms.

My love for the grain has inspired friends and family to give me maize theme gifts.  In fifth grade Science class I distinctly recall our teacher (who’s name escapes me, but she was dating the 6th grade math teacher, Mr. Trunzo.) insisting that wasting water would lead to corn ceasing to exist in our lifetime.  This might explain why I often eat several cobs at one sitting as to guarantee that I receive my fill. 

However, I am willing to concede that corn isn’t without its flaws. Its shelf life is limited to a day or two, so one must plan accordingly.  Cleaning and preparing the ear for consumption can be painstaking.  It isn’t great date food and serving said date a few ears of boiled corn does not make for a nutritiously balanced meal, nor showcase one’s culinary wizardry.  And if consumed in abundance, does evoke the silhouette of a 7month pregnant woman carrying triplets.

So, today it was with bitter sweetness as I waited for the water to boil.  Like all things summer, I just abhor to give them up and accept that it is fall with winter rapidly approaching.  Indulging in the final offerings of the season’s crop is often dicey – the probability that the toothsome niblets might not be in pristine rows and of equal size and shape is imminent.  That my laboriously selected cob may have been a tasty haven for some burrowing invertebrate animal is expected.

As I carefully slip each cob into the bubbling water, I silently say goodbye to summer.