corn

Luscious ears of tightly packed golden kernels oozing with sweetness. It's hard to believe that something so magnificent can grow in the backyard. Putting up corn is a gardening tradition in our little cottage.

Once the tassels appear, we keep an anxious eye on the weather hoping we don't get rain just as the dusty pollen begins to fly. In an effort to pollinate every last kernel, we collect the dust in a cone and sprinkle it on those ears which are growing at the outer edges, away from the prevailing wind.

After pollination, the silks brown and the ears begin to swell, growing fatter each day and increasing our anticipation of what's to come. Picking the right moment to harvest is key, and we puncture a kernel or two each day just waiting for that moment when the juice that results is a creamy and thick elixir of sweetness.

We had the first ears last night, along with jerk chicken and a squash and onion sautee, also from the garden. They were indescribably delicious covered in butter and lightly salted. I could eat a dozen of them. No store bought or canned or frozen corn even comes close.

This morning I skipped out of work to preserve the harvest. Ear after ear was stripped of its green leaves to expose a network of lacy silks inside. The effort required makes the glowing kernels feel like a reward, and they are. Better than any corn, anywhere, this fresh-from-the-garden treat.

I steam blanched the ears six at a time, plunged them into an icy bath and then dried them carefully before wrapping tightly for the freezer. Frozen garden corn is never quite the same as that pulled directly from the plant and quickly boiled, but it is half again as good as any other corn I've ever tasted.

Midwinter we'll sit down to an evening meal of stew and salad and we'll have golden ears of garden corn on the plate as well. I can close my eyes on the coldest night of the year, take a bite and it's summer again. Magic.