August Ritual

Well, the ritual actually started in our house this year on July 31st.  But typically, it's an August thing.

And apparently, I've got it all wrong this year.

Corn.  Corn on the cob.  Delicious corn on the cob that nearly melts in your mouth - it's that good.

Corn cobs slathered with melted butter and a couple shakes of salt.

If the corn is perfect, you bitebitebitebitebitebitebite down the length of the cob before chewing it and

even before you take a breath.

Corn so scrumptious you don't want to put it down to get a napkin and wipe up that butter running down your chin.

Corn so awesome that all conversation at the table stops and every diner is transported to some other land of culinary ecstasy.

Corn so amazing that who cares if all the other items on the plate get stone cold.

That's good corn.

Yes, we've returned to the ritual twice this summer so far.

We shucked the corn out back.  (We always reminisce about the year we were doing so, and young daughter Sarah was helping.  As sometimes happens, the corn smell attracted the bees, and one stung her right between the eyes.  For the next week she had two black eyes, and the bridge of her nose was swollen out level with the tip of her nose.  Is she allergic to beestings?  Perhaps.  She hasn't been stung in the 20 years since then, so we don't really know.)

We cooked it and prepared the butter, the salt, and the little corn cob grabber thingies.

Perhaps we messed up the ritual by having our first batch on July 31st, not in August.  That batch was terrible.

Perhaps we messed up the ritual by not waiting for the typical corn harvest at the end of August.  The second batch was just as awful as the first.

It's a bad sign when a cob of corn only has a few bites gone.

Very bad.

Two corn on the cob strikes this season so far.

Do I dare risk a third attempt?  Is it a bad year for corn?

What.  A.  Letdown.