Summer Corn

With the advent of warmer weather and baseball season, I can’t help recalling with great fondness the Sunday dinners at my grandparents’ house when I was young. I didn’t think much of it then, but now that I am a mom and love preparing family dinners for my son, husband, parents and whoever else might happen by, I realize just how much those lazy Sunday afternoons listening to the Yankees on the radio and cooking with my Nanny and mom has meant to me.

Most Sundays, my parents and I would take the short ride from our home to spend the day with my “Nanny and Poppy”. Our weekly sojourn always included a trip to Adams Fairacre Farms; going to Adams was my favorite part of the day because they always had yummy cookies, cakes and candies that no typical grocery store had. My mother, Nanny and I would gather the produce and other items that we needed to make our dinner complete for that day, and I could always count on one thing — that corn on the cob would be on the menu.

Upon returning to my grandparents’ house, my job, without fail, was to husk the corn. I would go out to the back porch and sit cross-legged on the step with a brown paper bag, and made it my mission to get every little one of those hairs off the cob — no easy task. If it was a sunny day, my Poppy would be outside by the back porch lying in his beach chair, and my Dad would be at the dining room table doing his school work, both of them listening to the Yankee game on the transistor radio. Every once in awhile you would hear the distinct voice of Phil Rizzuto exclaim, “Holy cow!” Poppy would always ask me, “Did Nanny get the kind with the small kernels? They’re much sweeter, you know.” Then Nanny would call to me to make sure I saved some of the husk so she could put it in the bottom of the corn’s simmering pot. I was never too sure what using some of the husk did to the corn; was it some sort of family culinary secret that an 8-year-old wouldn’t understand? I’m still not sure, but to this day, I save some of the husk when I cook corn on the cob.

By the time 5:00 PM rolled around, the late afternoon sun would be streaming into the kitchen and the back porch while mom and Nanny were cooking. They made the process of preparing a family dinner seem so effortless, so organic: They never consulted a recipe or measured any ingredients. There were no piles of dirty pans or utensils. They cleaned as they cooked, for the kitchen was considered minute by today’s standards. But the meals that were born in that kitchen were ones that I’ll never forget — simple but hearty.

As springtime would give way to the hot summer, I would set the table out on the back porch where they had a beautiful glass and wrought-iron picnic table. The glass tabletop reminded me of those old-fashioned Coke bottles, kind of green yet still transparent. As soon as the corn on the cob was put on the table everyone would slather it in butter, and of course, my Poppy would douse his with salt as well. No matter what the main entrée was, it was always a delicious and fulfilling meal; it was a family sharing time and place, filled with very special food. It’s a concept that is too rare in today’s overly scheduled world; there’s something comforting and familiar about planning a delicious meal, preparing it and watching those I love enjoy it. For me, cooking is a way to recapture fond memories that I will hopefully pass on to my own children.

Sweet corn on the cob and the New York Yankees…Sunday dinners in America…what could be better?

Joelle Congelli-Aguilar lives in the Orange County, Hudson Valley area with her husband, Rolando and son, Carson. She has been a teacher for the past twelve years and is an adjuct instructor at Mount Saint Mary’s College. Joelle’s culinary dream is to open her own Italian café in the future.