Gams Of Corn

It’s true. The ears of corn are gone from stores.

Wait, are you wondering the same thing I am?

Why “ears” of corn? Why not hands of corn, or chins of corn. Buttocks of corn?

The ancients were indeed a mysterious people. And then came Google:

Ear” comes from the ancient word “ahs,” which meant “husk of corn.” In English, sometimes the ear also is referred to as a “cob” or a “pole.” The ear is the spiked part of the corn plant that contains kernels, the delicious yellow tidbits we love to nibble on in the summertime.

Ah hah — that explains it! Now I know what my New Englander friends were trying to tell me the winter of my visit — “Cahver yah ahs, Rahd, it’s cahld outside.”

So, what is a husband to do? Having been charged by Happy Wife with dinner prep for Tuesday evening, the store shelves bereft of Ahs of Corn, yet still desperately wanting to prepare her the grilled corn recipe from this one:

Speaking of delicious tidbits to nibble on in summertime. Had the ancients been introduced to Giada we would not now be referring to them as ears of corn. KnowWhatImean? <nyuk nyuk>

Anyway, where was I. Oh right…

I went to my grocer’s freezer section and purchased frozen Ahs of corn. Brilliant!

I’m serious. Giada’s grilled corn (w/Parmesan) recipe is the bomb . Or, as my great nephew would opine: Amaze Balls.

Behold my rendition: Giada’s grilled cream corn w/Parmesan, spice-rubbed, grilled Alaskan halibut, oven-crisped prosciutto and an arc of cucumber:

Plus California Cabernet, vintage ’12.

How’d I do?

(Reminder: certain images on this blog may be embiggened by clicking on them).

What else, what else…

Oh right, the weather.

Unseasonably warm. Not quite warm enough for this anymore…

(Whoa! Gams of corn. Am I right?).

…but pretty warm. Like upper 40s by day. Yesterday it reached 52. During our daily walk at the park yesterday Harry was briefly beaten up by Otis, a somewhat spastic Rottweiller mix with a bad temper. No harm done. Like I said, it was brief. By the time I got close to intervene they’d already separated. Seconds later Otis’s cherub-faced upright came wheeling by on her mountain bike, oblivious, it seemed, to what had gone down — “Come pretty Otis, come!”

Yeah, I got your pretty Otis right here, girl.

Mood: edgy.

Not much else of note going on. I am We are anxiously awaiting to hear on the status of a certain application I’ve submitted. Prefer to leave you wondering at this time. Once we know, especially if the outcome is favorable to us, you’ll know.

Bye for now.