Farm Fresh

Fresh corn on the cob is always a highlight of my summer.

In my college days, I lived in California and I’d ride my moped twice a week to the farmer’s market and buy fresh corn out of the back of the farmer’s pickup.  Two ears of corn was all I needed for dinner, night after night.  A little butter, a little hot sauce, and I was a happy camper. 

Today, I drive down the street to any number of local farmstands to pick up my little bit of heaven.  I feel so blessed to live in such an area.

A few years ago at the Festival of Family Farms, I learned from Farmer Schuh how to pick the perfect ear. If the end is pointed, he said, the cob isn’t done growing.  If it’s rounded, it’s total perfection.  No need to pull back the husks anymore for me.  I took his advice and it rocked my world. I just feel the tip of the corn between my fingers and that’s all that’s required to know I have myself a good one.

Then comes a summertime ritual - sitting on the porch, husking corn, pulling silk strings from the cob and getting it ready for the pot of hot water on the stove.  Five minutes is all that’s needed in that boiling bath until I get to chomp into my favorite bit of summertime sweetness.

My neighbor gets her water boiling on the stove first, then walks back to her garden and pulls it fresh off the stalk.  The taste difference is noticeable when the corn has had no time to mess with the starch content. 

These days I eat my corn covered in lime juice and bit of jerk spice, so my mouth explodes with flavor.  Sometimes I grill it over an open fire when I’m in the “blackened mood” and it’s a whole different flavor - but still so yummy.

Our latest dinner guests commented they’d never seen anyone enjoy their food more than I, based simply on the verbal feedback I was giving the universe with every bite.  I was apparently emitting a whole lot of “mmm’s” while eating.  I didn’t notice.  I was too busy enjoying my corn.

I’m not exclusive with my love for corn, however.  We have a golden plum tree that provides the best juice bombs a person could ask for.  Waking up in the morning this time of year, my feet find their way out to the corner of our property before I’ve even had a cup of coffee, because the first thing I crave is a bite into a one of those plums, hot off the tree.

Our sugar snap peas didn’t even make it into the house this year as they were eaten straight off the vine.  Pure heaven.  Same thing with the blueberries - nary a muffin or pancake will they enter, as my desire for freshness keeps them from any higher calling.

They say fresh produce is better for a person’s body because the enzymes get depleted over time.  Surely one of those enzymes must be pushing a person’s joy button.  I’m in heaven.