Sweet Corn - May 25 2025

 

Sweet Corn

May 25 2025



How soon

sweet corn’s sweetness is lost;

the sugar turning to starch,

and the bright yellow niblets

losing the crispness

that gives them bite.

Not exactly cattle corn

but just as disappointing.

Precious cobs

in their short summer season,

whisked from garden to kitchen

in less than a minute,

then swiftly husked

plunged into water

brought to a boil.

Fresh corn,

buttered and salted

and nothing more.

A simple pleasure

but exacting nevertheless.

Which,

like scarcity

secret recipes

and the company one keeps,

means as much as the taste.

Because when something comes too easily

what's to savour

why wait?

And what about memory?

Because nostalgia colours everything,

sepia-toned, as it so often is.

Did the sweet corn I ate as a child

really taste as good?

Have I somehow forgotten the mealy cobs

past their prime,

the toothy ones

picked unripe?

Or is fond remembrance

also prophetic,

so even middling corn tastes better

in the afterglow.

Not to mention

how sweet anticipation

whets the appetite.

So I savour this simple feast;

warm butter

dripping down my chin,

yellow specks

dotting my lips,

a greedy hand

grabbing the next

from the freshly steaming pile.

Then count the naked cobs,

stacked like trophies

on my overflowing plate.

As my father once did;

a temperate man

delighting in gluttony

his better self would sniff at,

an orderly man

ignoring the mess

he'd have normally condemned.

How fleeting

are the good things in life,

as fleeting

as life itself.

And how precious

the simple pleasures

in the brief window of time we’re allowed.