Friday, July 03, 2009

You Will Not Believe Me

I just saw Tamara not finish a freshly-grilled steak because she had filled up on corn.

Grilled corn-on-the-cob, mind you, with a nice pat of Irish butter, cleaned, rewrapped in its own damp husks and encased in aluminum foil, which I had not made that way for a long time. It isgood with any decent corn and this time, the supermarket had laid hands on some of the Very Best Sweet corn. It was darned good!

We had four cobs, two each, and were she not a friend (and better armed), I might've offered to fight her for the last one.

Heavens, that was good! About 25 minutes on the grill, only turned it the once. Ahhh! Like fresh tomatoes, grilled corn is the taste of summer.


Fuzzy Curmudgeon said...

Sally didn't finish her ribeye last night, either. And it was PERFECT. I think she had too many hash browns. Or maybe it was just because it was half a pound of steak and her eyes were bigger than her stomach.

Due to a medical condition, I am no longer allowed to eat corn on the cob, so we don't buy it anymore. I was just bemoaning that fact yesterday afternoon as we passed the little market on West 79th Street. Bi-color sweet corn, how I miss you...

Gewehr98 said...


I knew I was forgetting something when I grilled beer brats tonight.

Thanks, Roberta.

Tomorrow's menu?

Sweet corn with lots of Wisconsin butter.

Word Verification: reverst

"Sir, your yearly physical bloodwork came back from the lab, and your cholesterol numbers have reverst their downward trend - what have you been eating?"

Bob said...

In the Nero Wolfe mystery Murder Is Corny, from the book Trio For Blunt Instruments, we discover that Wolfe, that orchid-loving connoisseur of fine foods, has an arrangement with a NY farmer to pick sweet corn to his specifications and deliver it Wolfe's brownstone in Manhattan, where it must be consumed within a couple of hours of being picked. Wolfe describes such corn, roasted in an extreme oven (no grill, apparently) as ambrosia.