Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Sweet corn... SOLS

It's like candy.  It always has been.  And, there's a finite window each summer when it comes available, and if I'm lucky, I seize it.  

Each year, my mom and dad expectantly watch the progress of local fields.  They keep in touch with their farmer friend, Doug, who grows the best crops just outside my home town.  They let me know when it will be ready for the first picking.  I wait as a child in line for a sprinkle-covered ice cream treat.  This year, my timing is perfect -- the boys and I are visiting when the call comes.


"Jim, it's ready." Doug's voice bounds through the phone's receiver and across the kitchen to me. "How much would she like?"

"12 dozen, Doug.  Can she pick it up at the farm this afternoon?"



"Sure, Buck.  It'll be pulled and ready; bagged up for her.  I'll help her load it when she gets here."

Relying on memories from summers past, I salivate despite the work ahead.  It's worth it.  

My mom and I shuck the large pile of tasselled ears out in the garage, accumulating husks and corn silk by the wheelbarrow-full.  She uses her electric knife plugged into two extension cords to shave each kernel from the each ear, letting them plop line by line into her large Tupperware bowl.  When mounds of juicy sweet corn cascade over its edges, I arrive to fill my two stockpots, warm and ready.

Grandma Lorraine's recipe is a tasty one; we use it each time we 'put up' corn.  Which, as an aside, I used this term with my husband early in our marriage -- he looked at me, befuddled, at what this phrase could really mean in city-speak.  I translated, "Freeze."  A little sugar, a little salt, 10 cups corn, and some water in each pot...boil for seven minutes.  That's it.

Over and over, I use my crocheted hotpads to transport the finished stockpots to empty Pyrex containers waiting on the kitchen table.  This is where our golden treasure cools before bagging.  This year, we're without fans to speed up the process...usually, the whirring blades surround our resting space like summer shade trees.  At first, steam fogs the nearby windows.  Little by little, the backyard returns to view.  

Every once in a while, I tiptoe over to the table to sneak a bite.  I'm providing the necessary quality control.  I fancy myself an ice cream taste-tester; really, this is much better.  It's the perfect marriage of salt and sweetness.  Each bite reminds me of another summer, in another garage where I sat, toe-headed with a trendy Dorothy Hamill cut, observing as my mother and grandmother journeyed through the same ritual.  Grandma always came to help.  They'd giggle and chat while they shucked, cut, and cooked sweet corn.  It felt more like a coffee date than a big, messy project.  

Today, the baby sleeps while we shuck, cut, and cook.  We snicker as Reid 'waters' my mom's plants that encircle their house like a multicolor necklace.  We consider inviting Grandma; the high temperatures deter us.  She's fragile now.  My mom carries on the tradition -- she selflessly invites the mess and invests her time in my freezer-filling campaign.

After dinner, my avocado green measuring cup dips into the shallow Pyrex, scoops up its golden yield, and drops two-cups worth into each baggy.   Again and again, my left hand instinctively flattens its contents while my right zips over the blue and green lock-tight tracks.  

42.

Our bounty lies stacked like bricks at Fort Knox.  The cookie sheets underneath secure its transport to the garage deep freeze to harden before the two-hour trip home.

"If you can ration this, b, your corn will last until next spring," my mathematical Dad figures.

"Yep..." I'm already dreaming of the comfortable happiness each serving will bring my family on hum-drum school nights.  "It will."

That is, if I can exercise such restraint...

It's like candy.  It always has been.  And, there's a finite window each summer when it comes available, and if I'm lucky, I seize it.

Write on,
b

11 comments:

  1. I love the line...our bounty lies like bricks at Fort Knox...indeed it is as valuable. Every bit of sweetness and love.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wow! What a wonderful tradition and one that sounds so yummy ;-) Priceless!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Your post sent me back into summer kitchens of long ago where I "put up" green beans and peaches with my mom, luscious jars of summer to fill the shelves for winter. And you inspired me to share my tomato story from All Write.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I love your phrase "luscious jars of summer to fill the shelves for winter." Brilliant!!!! Thanks for sharing your tomato story. :)
      b

      Delete
  4. You are an amazing writer B. I imagined every step of the way...only I imagined my sweet mother-in-law who recently passed away, laboring in love, surrounded by 3 crazy little boys in tow. I love your tradition , right down to your dad's calculations and your son watering the 'necklace'. I hope you share with your parents and your grandma. xo

    ReplyDelete
  5. A story of hard work that captures what fun it is when it is a shared family tradition! There are so many jewels- perfect descriptive phrases- tucked into the writing! Here are some I liked best-

    there's a finite window...
    I wait as a child in line for a sprinkle-covered ice cream treat.
    letting them plop line by line into her large Tupperware bowl (my mom has one of those big bowls, too!)
    Each bite reminds me of another summer (such a rich connection)
    She's fragile now (such few words say so much, and probably every reader had an instant connection to a precious loved one)
    my avocado green measuring cup dips into the shallow Pyrex (the specific references take me right into my kitchen, where similar items reside)
    dreaming of the comfortable happiness each serving will bring my family on hum-drum school nights (ENJOY!)

    P.S. I loved the picture of the handwritten recipe!

    ReplyDelete
  6. I love the added "crocheted hot pads", so right with this, b. We used to freeze them right on the cob, but your way certainly saves room. I can't do it anymore-left the freezer behind, but I'll buy it as long as the farmer's market sells it. What a nice rewarding day you shared with us! Yum!

    ReplyDelete
  7. I love the imagery in this post. Those seasonal traditions are so important and bind the generations. Thanks so much for sharing. I can taste the sweet corn now.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Ahh...this same view over here in my home too. I'm glad you took the time to capture this memory. Sweet corn is a favorite part of my summer too.
    Ruth

    ReplyDelete
  9. Oh the memories you have brought back to me. I can remember my Mom "putting up" corn. Now my mouth is watering for some of the tasty treat. Thanks for sharing your summer delight.

    ReplyDelete
  10. I can feel the steam from this project - and taste the sweetness of the corn - and see you in that garage long ago. Such descriptive writing, such sweet memories!

    ReplyDelete

Hi! I'd love to hear what you are thinking right now, so please take a sec and drop me a line. I'm so glad you stopped by today -- thanks a billion. :)