Every year when the local sweet corn is ripe I have Pig Day, when I eat nothing but corn on the cob. For many years, Carl and I had a garden and grew our own corn. Pig Day was always a much-anticipated event. Corn is best when the pot of water is put on to boil before you go outdoors to pick the corn. Then the ears get shucked and dropped immediately into the boiling water. We called it ten-minute-corn: ten minutes from stalk to mouth.
I’m no longer able to tend a garden, and even if I were, the deer would have their own Pig Day before the corn was ready to be picked. (Last night they ate all my phlox – big white blossoms that were hidden behind large rhododendruns next to my front porch.)
Today was Pig Day. I bought the corn at my local farmer’s market. According to their sign, it was grown in Yakima and picked yesterday. Not exactly ten-minute corn but less than 24 hours, and the best I can do. My usual diet rules do not apply on Pig Day, so I ate the corn dripping with melted butter and sprinkled with salt.
Researchers tells us that pigs are extremely intelligent animals – smarter, even, than dogs. Their fondness for corn is proof enough for me.
Oink, oink.