In Iowa, sweet corn is king and its preparation an art.
“Ioway, Ioway, that’s where the tall corn grows!” my mom and her brother would sing as they tested the corn growing in my uncle’s Montana garden. Bending over a golden ear that looked pretty ripe, they’d push a fingernail into a rounded kernel, watch how it burst then taste the milky liquid. Based on the level of sweetness they’d leave it to ripen a little longer until one night when it would be ready.
“Get the pot, Eleanor!” my uncle would yell and my mom would run for the kitchen and pull out a big battered soup pot. On the stove it would go and when the water was at a full rolling boil they’d return to the garden, gather up an armful of corn and shuck off the husks as they ran for the kitchen. In would go the corn and everyone was called to the table to wait the two minutes needed for cooking. Once done it was triumphantly brought to the table, slathered with butter, given a pinch of salt then devoured with gusto.
“Now that is corn,” they would say with satisfaction as the butter gently dripped from their chins.
To learn how to cook sweet corn like the Iowans, check out this great recipe.
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