I love love love love love it.
I wait impatiently until the first puny ears are offered here in the Pioneer Valley, and then will try one, knowing full well that the real, gen-u-wine article — sweet, crunchy, delectable, kernels popping into a waiting mouth — will still take a few more weeks.
Every few days I’ll try one. The end of last week I hit the jackpot at my favorite farmstand. No, not this one — my favorite farmstand where the ears are the juiciest and sweetest of all, is not picturesque. Unlike this one, which has good corn. Very good corn. Just not GREAT corn. But it’s very picturesque, as is the charming sales helper.
(But honestly, even bad corn would be better than no corn at all.) I’ll be enjoying summer’s bounty of corn from now into September, as long as the supply holds out. And then I’ll re-enter The Dreaming, not the Aboriginal homeland in Australia, but my own Never Never Land of corn, slathered with butter and lightly salted, summer’s heaven on earth.