SO, SO HAPPY
After a frustrating day of data analysis, decide it's time to spend some quality with the corn plants. It's dark out, so I grab the headlamp and look at the silks on the ends of the ears: they appear dark and "dried out," which is a sign the ear might be ripe for the pickin'. So we feel the ends of ears, and they feel blunt, not pointy: another good sign. Finally we peel back the husk and pierce the kernels: the juice is creamy, not clear.
Alright, alright, it's officially harvest time. We select three of the best candidates, and I can't help but express my sheer joy at the now very real prospect of fresh sweet corn.
We throw it in boiling water for 6 minutes, wait until it's not molten hot (I was never good at waiting for corn to cool off) and slather it with butter and salt. The first bite is crispy and oh-so sweet. I'm a fairly slow eater; this is the first time I clear my plate (er, my cobs) before Arthur does. I've certainly had my fair share of corn on the cob before, and this ranks up there with the very best. So happy!
Arthur and I, in a tribute to the melding of cultures, celebrate the corn harvest with vodka shots.
After a frustrating day of data analysis, decide it's time to spend some quality with the corn plants. It's dark out, so I grab the headlamp and look at the silks on the ends of the ears: they appear dark and "dried out," which is a sign the ear might be ripe for the pickin'. So we feel the ends of ears, and they feel blunt, not pointy: another good sign. Finally we peel back the husk and pierce the kernels: the juice is creamy, not clear. 
Alright, alright, it's officially harvest time. We select three of the best candidates, and I can't help but express my sheer joy at the now very real prospect of fresh sweet corn.
We throw it in boiling water for 6 minutes, wait until it's not molten hot (I was never good at waiting for corn to cool off) and slather it with butter and salt. The first bite is crispy and oh-so sweet. I'm a fairly slow eater; this is the first time I clear my plate (er, my cobs) before Arthur does. I've certainly had my fair share of corn on the cob before, and this ranks up there with the very best. So happy!
Arthur and I, in a tribute to the melding of cultures, celebrate the corn harvest with vodka shots.
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