THE APPRENTICE

In the South there is usually one week in July that is called…Corn Week.
It is that one week of the year when the sweet corn is at its best. Sweet, tender, not hard… the perfect week for harvesting and "putting up" the fruits of one’s labor. Of course it is also the week that all the sweet corn growers of the area have a stupid little grin on their face, because all of us city folk or non-corn growers will pay ridiculous prices for dozens of ears of the kernels of gold.

As a new bride, 22 years ago, I began the painstaking process of learning THE PROPER WAY to “put up” corn. “Putting up” corn is a colloquialism that simply means “to store the corn in a manner that will be edible until the next harvest season when one can enjoy fresh corn again.” As I learned, this is an extremely meticulous procedure, which requires an inordinate attention to detail and to veer from this regimented operation is to invite corn catastrophe of epic proportions. For the first 16 years of marriage, I was under the ever-watchful eye of my mother-in-law during the yearly corn proceedings. I was… THE CORN APPRENTICE. That was six years ago. I have completed my internship and I now leave you with a written format reflective of my sixteen years of formal training. Study hard and you too can be the Queen of Corn.

THE PROPER WAY TO “PUT UP” CORN

Step one. Pick the corn. You must only shuck and “put up” corn that has been picked at dawn's first light. The corn has more moisture. Corn picked at 12:02 p.m. will not freeze properly.
Step two. Shuck the corn. During the shucking process, which is always performed outside under the shade tree, near a pig lot, be sure to keep damp towels over the shucked corn. This will keep the flies off the corn, which are only there because you are sitting within 20 feet of the pigs!
Step three. Wash the corn. My mother-in-law informed me that once Aunt Trophy forgot to bathe and wash her shucked corn first …and "Lawd, her corn turned sour."
Step four. Cut the corn off the cob. Do not under any circumstances use a corn cutter (a miraculous device that someone invented to ease the burden of cutting corn off the cob). You must however, use a very small, very sharp paring knife and gently cut off the top surface of the kernels. Go back and cut a second layer of tender corn kernels from the cob. Go back a third time and scrape the cob to get every last drop of corn juice from the cob. Do this until you can no longer uncurl your fingers from the knife handle or until you have enough creamed corn to fill a pot, which ever comes first.
Step five. Cook the corn. Of course only the most rustic and antiquated cook still cooks her corn on top of the stove, where the risk of scorching is ever prevalent. And who wants to freeze scorched creamed corn? Yes, the modern farm brides of today have resorted to the ever-faithful microwave oven to cook their corn, prior to freezing. But only use approved, oven-tempered glassware. No plastic. Cook the corn until it is that perfect shade of golden yellow. What is that shade, you ask? You will just know. And if you don’t, well, then your corn will be ruined. It took me 16 years to figure out the perfect shade of gold.
Step six. Cool the corn. Only cool the corn in metal or glass containers. Aunt Trophy once cooled her corn in a plastic bowl and you know what that meant?… Plastic-tasting corn.
Step seven. Cool some more. Continue cooling the corn until it is STONE COLD. But you may not use the freezer or refrigerator to facilitate this cooling. Therefore, depending on how many cookings of corn you have done, you may well be up until midnight stirring and cooling corn.
Step eight. Bag the corn. Using a measuring cup, (metal not plastic) ladle two cups of the STONE COLD creamed corn into PLASTIC zip lock bags.
(Plastic… go figure.)
Step nine. Freeze the corn. Place the bags of gold into a freezer and fall into bed with dreams of sweet kernels of corn dancing in your head.

I generally reserve the strictest of all punishments for any family member leaving even a kernel of corn on their plates after dinner. After all it is LIQUID (ok – slightly viscous ) GOLD and I am no longer an apprentice. I am the Queen of Corn.