Last night we had fresh corn on the cob as part of our outdoor cookout — and once again I realized just how much I like to eat corn on the cob.
It’s an annual rite of self-discovery. At some point every summer, corn on the cob is on the menu for a cookout, and I chomp through one ear and enjoy it so much I promptly have another. (You can’t stop with just one ear of corn!) And thereafter corn on the cob remains on the summer dinner menu for as long as it is available, and then it vanishes from the plate — forgotten until next summer comes, a new bumper crop of local corn waiting to be shucked hits the stores, and the cycle of food revelation happens all over again.
Corn on the cob is one of those seasonal foods that is so closely associated with its season they are almost synonymous. You can’t really imagine eating ears of corn when it’s 10 degrees outside and there is snow up to your kneecaps. Corn on the cob demands to be eaten outside on a summer’s day, so you don’t have to fret about the flying debris that is produced as you bite and bite and bite again, in staccato fashion, moving down the rows of corn like the ear is an old typewriter carriage, until your mouth is filled with juicy sweetness and your lips are slathered with butter. It’s just a fun thing to eat, and you can’t help but feel a bit like a kid again when you’re doing it.
I like mine lightly buttered, with no salt.