The season is over, but I’m already craving fresh-picked corn on the cob. Drenched in butter, with a touch of lemon pepper. That longing is probably exacerbated by knowing I can’t get it in Germany.
It has always been a toss-up whether corn or potato wins the contest to be my favourite vegetable. From October through July I usually make do with the frozen variety, which keeps the cravings at bay. Apparently there is no frozen corn in Germany.
I’ve looked in stores from four different grocery chains, and none of them stock frozen corn. There is, to be truthful, canned corn, but I can’t see myself getting that desperate. Canned corn brings back memories from my youth of mushy flavourless yellow things.
It’s not that there is no corn being grown here. Quite the opposite. My unscientific observations would place corn second to grapes as a crop. Maybe that’s why I can’t buy any – you can’t buy local grapes in the grocery store either. Well, you can, but in bottles. The local grapes are all turned into wine; the ones you eat are imported.
I’m told I wouldn’t want to eat the local corn, that it isn’t like Canadian corn. It is grown for animal, not human, consumption and cows have less discriminating palates.
When I was a newlywed I fed corn on the cob to some of my bride’s German relatives who had come to Canada to meet me. It was August and the corn that year was particularly good.
When I placed the food on the table, there was quite the discussion (in German, which I didn’t understand) about how I was disrespecting them by feeding them cow food. How was I to know? At that point I had never been to Germany.
After the discussion and being assured I wasn’t trying to poison them, they tentatively tried what was being offered. I guess it was acceptable: they each ate had four cobs. I usually limit myself to two (though once I had eight, which is a story for another day).
I don’t know why German farmers don’t grow corn for human consumption. Just another cultural difference I can make note of without fully understanding it.
One thing seems certain though: Next chance I get I’m going to eat corn.