The best method for making this is to put the shucked corn into a large stewpot, fill with just enough water to cover the corn, THEN (and here's the MAGIC) add a tablespoon of sugar to the water. Let the water come to a full rolling boil, then turn off the heat and remove the corn to a plate. DO NOT OVERCOOK YOUR CORN!!! It only needs to be brought to a boil and then it remains crunchy and flavorful. Slather corn with tons of butter and salt and ENJOY!!!
Now, you ask, why would you put sugar into the water??? Because as soon as the corn is ripped from that stalk, it begins to lose its sugar and turn to starch (which is a very YUKKY taste!). Just this small amount of sugar makes the biggest difference to a corn connoisseur like myself.
NEVER, NEVER put salt into water in which you will be boiling vegetables!!!!!! It makes them tough by pulling out the moisture. Don't do it!!!!!
GOOD IDEA: Instead of shucking and boiling large masses of corn for the freezer all in one day, try boiling just one extra dozen each time you make corn-on-the-cob for your family. When it is cool, cut it and bag it and put it in your freezer! No muss, no fuss! Of course, if you want large amounts of corn in your freezer by end of season, this means you must eat lots and lots of corn-on-the-cob during the season. How hard can THAT be?????
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Tablets and Pencils and Erasers! Oh, Boy!
Did I ever tell you that I LOVE to write???
It started with me, at five years of age, pretending to write on small plain tablets my father brought home. Though I didn't know how to print anything but my name and some numbers, I remember sitting on the staircase of our home and "writing" stories on these tablets. Later, when I started school, I would bring home my school tablets and fill them with my stories.
Mysteries! That's what I really liked to write! By second grade, I was reading Nancy Drew mysteries and The Bobsey Twins books. My tablets were filled with stories, but not many school projects. When a tablet was filled, I would just go up to the teacher and explain that my tablet was full and I needed another, and I would be given another tablet, no questions asked. WOW!
Pencils were free for the asking, too! My parents had to supply the huge eraser as well as many that fit onto the pencil. Ah-h-h! I can still remember that special smell of rubber! And see the dark smudges all over my papers! And the holes in the paper where I had just changed my mind too many times.
Today, here I am, typing on a computer as I share my stories. But, you know, it's just not the same. There are no smells to associate with my postings. No crisp new paper or pink flexible erasers or dull lead pencils. But what's really important to me now is getting things down for posterity--my children and grandchildren and maybe eventually great grandchildren and others whom I'll never know here on earth. I am hoping that at least one of them will share the same delights that I did as I grew up in McSmalltown.
It started with me, at five years of age, pretending to write on small plain tablets my father brought home. Though I didn't know how to print anything but my name and some numbers, I remember sitting on the staircase of our home and "writing" stories on these tablets. Later, when I started school, I would bring home my school tablets and fill them with my stories.
Mysteries! That's what I really liked to write! By second grade, I was reading Nancy Drew mysteries and The Bobsey Twins books. My tablets were filled with stories, but not many school projects. When a tablet was filled, I would just go up to the teacher and explain that my tablet was full and I needed another, and I would be given another tablet, no questions asked. WOW!
Pencils were free for the asking, too! My parents had to supply the huge eraser as well as many that fit onto the pencil. Ah-h-h! I can still remember that special smell of rubber! And see the dark smudges all over my papers! And the holes in the paper where I had just changed my mind too many times.
Today, here I am, typing on a computer as I share my stories. But, you know, it's just not the same. There are no smells to associate with my postings. No crisp new paper or pink flexible erasers or dull lead pencils. But what's really important to me now is getting things down for posterity--my children and grandchildren and maybe eventually great grandchildren and others whom I'll never know here on earth. I am hoping that at least one of them will share the same delights that I did as I grew up in McSmalltown.
My First Day of School
It was September! My first day of school! And it was no ordinary day. The very first thing I did was try to console a little girl who was crying because she had to go to a different school just over the river from the town's school where she now was. The principal even came into our room to console the little girl and then take her over to her new school. I stood nearby, watching and listening.
Then, I could bear it no longer.
"I'll go to school there instead of her if you want!" I offered.
The principal, bent over the little girl, swiveled his head to look into my concerned face.
"No, you can't do that, Lucy," he explained. "The school is expecting her."
"But I don't mind going. She can stay here," I insisted.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Why don't you come ride along with us? I'm sure she would like your company," he suggested.
And so, my first day of school was partially spent riding in the principal's car.
It's very interesting that even at the tender age of seven, I had deep compassion for others.
Still do. Some things are just part of our character from the beginning.
Thank you, God!
Then, I could bear it no longer.
"I'll go to school there instead of her if you want!" I offered.
The principal, bent over the little girl, swiveled his head to look into my concerned face.
"No, you can't do that, Lucy," he explained. "The school is expecting her."
"But I don't mind going. She can stay here," I insisted.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Why don't you come ride along with us? I'm sure she would like your company," he suggested.
And so, my first day of school was partially spent riding in the principal's car.
It's very interesting that even at the tender age of seven, I had deep compassion for others.
Still do. Some things are just part of our character from the beginning.
Thank you, God!
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