One of the benefits of growing up in a rural area was the bounty of summer. My mom canned dill pickles and made plum jam. She froze tomatoes and sweet corn. My sister and I had the job of husking the corn. So I had to laugh when I read this on O Chef:
“The only really useful gadget we have found for shucking corn, though, is one or more boys and/or girls between the ages of eight and eleven — when they’re old enough to do it pretty well, but still young enough to be convinced that it might be fun (and don’t require payment). With proper motivation, they can shuck a mountain of corn in short order.”
Maybe I thought husking corn was fun when I was eight, but a bushel of ears later I decided I hated husking corn. The silks stuck to my bare, shorts-clad legs, there were usually bugs in the husks, and I didn’t like eating corn on the cob and getting all those kernel skins stuck in my teeth.
Now I love eating corn on the cob, especially Peaches & Cream corn from Iowa, but I still don’t like husking corn. Last summer, we were out on my parents’ deck husking corn. I was doing it gingerly, peeling each husk off individually, trying to avoid getting dirty. “What are you doing? That’s not how I taught you to husk corn!” Mom told me. So I went back to the way I used to husk: I tore half the husks off the ears of corn, and then tore the other half off. Voila! I had a pile of corn in no time, ready to be steamed, buttered, and devoured.