When I lived in Spain I missed an odd variety of foods: corn on the cob, cottage cheese (really), Three Musketeers bars…My boyfriend knew how much I liked corn and he brought me back a half dozen ears after he visited his family in Galicia.
The gesture was great, and the ears of corn were beautiful – Monsanto couldn’t dream up anything that bright, that golden, and that succulent-looking. Each ear was about as big as my forearm; drool pooled in my mouth.
“I’ll boil this corn right up!”
“It’s only 11:30 in the morning….” my boyfriend protested.
“I’m eating this at American lunch-time. It’s exquisite!”
My boyfriend shook his head, he knew me well enough to question my questionable eating habits.
“How long does that take to cook?”
“I don’t know, about twenty minutes….” I was transfixed by the perfectly shaped kernels under the boiling water. I stepped closer.
“Don’t get burned…”
I hate obvious corrections.
“Steam is good for the skin.” And I piggishly stood my ground.
Twenty minutes passed and I greedily pulled an ear of corn out of the water. I blew on it so I could bite in without burning my mouth; I placed my teeth around the generous curve of the cob and bit down. I tried to bite down but my teeth didn’t even dent the corn.
“Needs a few more minutes….” I reasoned. I let the corn boil another ten minutes. The kernels still resisted.
“Longer…?” questioned my boyfriend.
“Another twenty, maybe.” I decided.
My boyfriend fell asleep. I watched the pot of corn. Twenty more minutes passed. Titanium kernels. Twenty more minutes on top of that - I was flushed from hovering over the steaming pot.
“Hey, hey!” I called to my boyfriend “Where did you get this corn anyways?”
“That corn? From Pedro…”
“You mean Pedro who has the cows and pigs?”
“Yeah.”
“So, this is animal corn.”
“It’s corn.”
The gesture was great, and the ears of corn were beautiful – Monsanto couldn’t dream up anything that bright, that golden, and that succulent-looking. Each ear was about as big as my forearm; drool pooled in my mouth.
“I’ll boil this corn right up!”
“It’s only 11:30 in the morning….” my boyfriend protested.
“I’m eating this at American lunch-time. It’s exquisite!”
My boyfriend shook his head, he knew me well enough to question my questionable eating habits.
“How long does that take to cook?”
“I don’t know, about twenty minutes….” I was transfixed by the perfectly shaped kernels under the boiling water. I stepped closer.
“Don’t get burned…”
I hate obvious corrections.
“Steam is good for the skin.” And I piggishly stood my ground.
Twenty minutes passed and I greedily pulled an ear of corn out of the water. I blew on it so I could bite in without burning my mouth; I placed my teeth around the generous curve of the cob and bit down. I tried to bite down but my teeth didn’t even dent the corn.
“Needs a few more minutes….” I reasoned. I let the corn boil another ten minutes. The kernels still resisted.
“Longer…?” questioned my boyfriend.
“Another twenty, maybe.” I decided.
My boyfriend fell asleep. I watched the pot of corn. Twenty more minutes passed. Titanium kernels. Twenty more minutes on top of that - I was flushed from hovering over the steaming pot.
“Hey, hey!” I called to my boyfriend “Where did you get this corn anyways?”
“That corn? From Pedro…”
“You mean Pedro who has the cows and pigs?”
“Yeah.”
“So, this is animal corn.”
“It’s corn.”
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