Yesterday my dad dropped off a dozen local corn as a treat for us (and it was quickly incorporated into my supper plans).
I grew up surrounded by farm fields, a farming grandfather and ample opportunities to eat fresh picked corn. We even for a time grew some around our house.
My parents had a giant pot that would be rigged up over an open fire outside for massive corn boils with family or friends. It was one of the many perks of country living.
When we got corn for supper, the kids were usually in charge of shucking it – removing the husks. We would head outside and either sit by the grass removing husks and throwing them into the fire pit, taking as much care we we could to get the corn nice and clean, or we would sit inside the shed with the garage door open.
Last night I couldn’t help but reminisce about my corn shucking days in the country, the feel and smell of the corn bringing back many memories.
But instead of being outside with a fire pit nearby, I was shucking the corn over my sink, placing husks in my compost container to take to my green bin. It was all so much less visceral and so much more robotic. I highly doubt my children will have deep memories of taking the husk off corn in our kitchen.
Next time I think I’ll throw us out in the yard to do it. At least so we can have a sense of open air while preparing the corn.
There are times when I really do miss country living. Can you relate?
