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Corn on cob not meant for knife and fork

Joyce Walter writes about the proper way to eat corn on the cob
ReflectiveMoments_JoyceWalter
Reflective Moments by Joyce Walter

This year’s corn crop has been as tasty as any we have enjoyed over the past few years.

Our regular supplier has once again provided this household with enough cobs to keep us enjoying the fruits of its labour, offering us peaches and cream, sweet, super sweet and all kinds in between.

There is always a race to ensure one gets a dozen or so every week during the corn-growing season and that’s why the house lights go on early every Saturday morning. Some years one had to be in line by no later than 7:45 a.m. to be sure of taking home 12 cobs. While the lines are shorter this year, there is still evidence that corn is the main attraction, far beyond zucchini and squash, even onions and cucumbers.

As I sat at the table last week, waiting for my cob to cool, after being buttered and lightly salted, I recalled how many corn plants the parents had in their garden and how excited I was to find the first cobs that would be taken off the plants, husked and boiled for supper. One for my plate, two each for the parents until I demanded equality and also got a second cob.

Some would consider it child labour but I didn’t mind husking and getting those silky hairs off each cob so Mom could process them into jars for winter pleasure.
Some kernels stayed on the cob; most, however were cut off, creamed and preserved that way, in jars, and later in the freezer.

Corn roasts were popular gatherings and there was so much fun pulling the cobs from the embers, dipping them in butter and enjoying a flavour like no other. No one cared that butter might run down the chin — in fact that was part of the experience.

Thus it was that I knew no other way to eat corn on the cob, but by picking it up and using one’s teeth to remove the kernels. But I found out that in polite company, at a public banquet, corn on the cob is not eaten in that manner.

As a young reporter I was assigned to cover a banquet in honour of a visiting dignitary whose name eludes me at the moment. I was seated with Bea Dubinsky, my friend and mentor, and some other ladies who took pity when they saw me alone at the press table.

The plated meal was served and on the plate was a tiny cob of corn. I had never seen a cob so small but obviously a larger cob had been cut in several pieces, perhaps so the restaurant would make more money on the meal. I do not recall what else was served.

Thankfully I am a slow eater, and by the time I had buttered and salted my cob, Bea had daintily lifted one end of her cob and was slicing the kernels neatly off onto her plate. Then she set the empty cob aside and used her fork to eat the corn. I remember looking around and saw that others were doing the same. 

I did not follow suit. I knew full well that if I tried slicing off the kernels I would likely send them flying across the table, landing who-knows where. Instead I regretfully set the cob aside and ate whatever else had been served.

To this very day, I do not eat corn on the cob in public. It is a private matter.

But I know in my heart that if Bea had been at a corn roast with me, she would have had no hesitation in letting a bit of butter dribble down her chin.

Joyce Walter can be reached at ronjoy@sasktel.net 

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the position of this publication.  

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