Corn on the cob. Photo by Katelyn Avery.
Yellow isn’t my color, but on you it looks delightful. Something about your style pulls it off. Corn on the cob just can’t be knocked down.
My mother prepares you because I am a spoiled college kid, but I don’t care how bad that looks. Even if did step up as a real adult, and prepare you myself, I would receive an unequal reward, when compared to the work I put in. You, corn on the cob, are a delicacy often reserved for holidays. Today that rule is broken. Defiance has never tasted so good.
I’ve missed you, and been chasing you, my cob friend. Every time I find a clue your 5 steps ahead of me. As I travel the food lover’s road I meet people who say I just missed you. As I settle into your “current” destination I discover that you’ve moved again. Each time I catch defeat instead of the cob, I would wonder, “Do you hate me my friend? Even after I complimented your bold choice in kerneled “clothing”.
After a long wait the sun is shining today, metaphorically speaking of course, because it’s actually raining here in Connecticut. Nevertheless I have finally been reunited with one of America’s best foods. I’m not ashamed to admit that in my opinion, most sustenance cannot even try compete. How could they ever remove corn from the “popular table”?
Now that corn on the cob is displayed before me, smothered in butter and ready for consumption, I am smiling. A glory dance is in order. I have accomplished a hefty goal, and the reward is beyond sweet.