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Sweet corn is one of summer's simplest, greatest pleasures Date published: 7/17/2006 By LAURA MOYER Like any other gift, an ear of fresh sweet corn must be unwrapped. Layers of green husk pull off with a squeak. The top brownish tangle of silk comes off in a clump, but the pale inner threads must be pulled off strand by strand. Will work for food. Cheerfully. Corn on the cob is one of summer's simplest delights. Those who don't grow their own know where to get it. They seek it at the farmers market, asking at each stand, "When was this picked?" There's only one right answer. "This morning." The market's other temptations beckon, too. There are ridged, fragrant cantaloupes, deep red tomatoes, basketfuls of string beans, pints of blackberries as big as a baby's fist. But corn's the bait that lures so many to the canopied cash registers. At home, the water boils while the shucking ritual takes place. It's at full bubble when the denuded ears slip in. They don't stay long. How long to cook corn is a matter of opinion, of course. The correct opinion is that the corn makes only the briefest pass through the hot water before being tonged onto a plate. A minute, max. In fact the best of it doesn't have to be cooked at all. It's good crunched raw, right off the cob. The kernels pop between the teeth, sweet as candy. On cooked corn, butter, salt, pepper are optional. It's delicious with them, but just as good unadorned. Some people insist that there must be other things on the table as well. Tomatoes sliced thick, like pieces of roast. Maybe some fresh biscuits with a little ham. To drink, iced tea. There's no need for dessert, though. The corn is dessert. To reach LAURA MOYER:
1. Be respectful. No personal attacks.
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