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Corny Classified Information

by Alison G, MA, USA, Age 14

Corn on the cob is an American pastime. It’s right up there with baseball and apple pie, and it is a staple at my family’s dinner table most evenings during the summer. Last August, at one of our more unforgettable meals at my grandmother’s cottage by the lake, I looked around the table and found that every person was eating his or her corn in a different way. It had never occurred to me before how many different ways there are to get the corn off the cob and into the mouth. I saw typewriters, circles, artistic patterns; I even saw someone eating it -- heaven forbid -- off the cob! Why does this matter? Well, some might say that it doesn’t. However, I beg to differ. It is interesting to ponder the fact that, while eating corn on the cob is a benign, routine gastronomical activity, the way in which one eats his corn may illustrate a tremendous amount about his personality. Since that August evening, I have become something of an expert in corn-consumption analysis. After much research, I believe that I have figured out how and why each person in my family eats corn on the cob the way that he or she does.

My sister, Lauren, is a big fan of corn on the cob. She’s a bit of an aficionado, actually, and prides herself on being able to differentiate the corn varieties simply upon cob inspection. That night last August, I had the good fortune of sitting next to my sister. Lauren is one of the neatest people I have ever known. Her room – white carpet and all -- is always tidier than my mom even asks for it to be, and she has been known to clean my room on occasion because the mess is more than she can bear. Lauren, not surprisingly, eats her corn on the cob in lines, perfectly straight across the length of the cob. I have watched her as each bite gets straighter than the previous one. Not one niblet of corn is left in a row, as she moves south to the next one. I had never seen the diligent perfection of corn on the cob consumption so well illustrated. It makes sense, of course. It is patently obvious that someone with such neat habits would not let a bit of corn be stranded, lingering messily along the cob. She munches away perfect row after perfect row. I can’t help but wonder why Lauren is so consumed with everything, even her food, being in order. Is everything really so much better if it’s neater? I just don’t understand it. Therefore, I decided to try the method myself. I attempted to make perfect rows, like a typewriter, on my corn. However, my more haphazard ways make it impossible for me to “tooth type” a row; or anything remotely close to one. That night in August, after my failed attempt at the neat method, I looked once more at Lauren’s cob of perfection and quickly turned my head diagonally across the table to my dad. I was more likely to be able to master the patterns that he was making on his corn; or so I thought.

As I grabbed my second ear of the night, I watched closely as my dad chomped away at his corn. His route was up then down, followed by down then up. I studied the pattern that his teeth made in the corn, trying to find a way to imitate the odd shape. No one would be able to tell by his facial expression that his teeth were forming a work of art on the yellow vegetable. Dad is relatively decent at abstract art and is a creative problem solver, and his corn on the cob eating supports both qualities. I once again tried to mimic a corn-eating strategy. Unfortunately, much to my dismay, I found out that I lack artistic talent both abstractly and concretely when it comes to creating attractive and interesting patterns. Especially on corn.

In thinking more historically about the topic of corn and how its eating helps to classify its eaters, I am reminded of how my great grandmother used to eat the delectable vegetable. She would actually methodically slice each line of corn off the cob, manicured pinky aloft, and then use a fork and knife to eat the scattered niblets. She was a proper woman is all respects. She was polite in all areas of life, and she hardly ever did anything in the etiquette realm that was improper. So, when it came to eating her corn on the cob, Munna opted for an “off the cob” approach. She would never dream of touching her food, never mind using her teeth to struggle and pull to get the food into her mouth. As everyone munched happily and somewhat messily on their cobs, Munna carefully cut her corn off the cob and put proper size mouthfuls into her perfectly “lipsticked” mouth. I did not even attempt to try this technique. For me, much of the fun of corn on the cob is the fact that it is on the cob. I just cannot understand the notion of taking the time to cut it off the cob, making it less fun and more of a hassle. Munna’s technique was certainly not my style.

To my right at the table that lovely summer evening by the lake was my Uncle John. I have always respected his creativity and abstract thinking, and his circular corn on the cob eating technique perfectly suited his talents and personality. My uncle is extremely organized; however he also thinks “out of the box”. He does things well and in a very specific order, but that order is unlikely to be conventional or expected. For instance, John may pour milk into his cereal bowl before adding the cereal, which is out of the ordinary. However, even if he does this in an unorthodox way, he will do it the same way every time. So his organization and consistent creativity are well illustrated in his style of corn eating: he eats his corn in perfect circles. Uncle John makes his way quickly around the cob in a circular form, essentially “mowing” the entire cob and never missing a beat. Or a bite. This technique works perfectly for him; however it is, once again, not suitable for me. Considering that I cannot even draw a proper circle on a sheet of paper, I figure that it would be tough for me to make one using my teeth on a three dimensional vegetable.

Noting that my mom – also neat and organized in manner and personality – joins my sister in the previously described “typewriter” technique, I turned to my brother and grandmother, the last two family members at that lakeside table. Nana and Matt eat their corn the same way, and they are my last hopes for corn on the cob eating colleagues. Thankfully, they eat their corn in a completely unorganized fashion. One bite here and another bite there, and still another on the far side of the cob. Their philosophy is “who cares how you eat it, as long as it gets into your mouth?”. My grandmother has a can-do, solve-it-quick outlook on life’s issues. She is less concerned with detail as she is with making the most of the whole. Her corn on the cob eating approach reflects that attitude. My five year old brother, Matt, is still a work in process in terms of philosophy and personality, though early indications are that he embraces risk and is comfortable with randomness.

Of all of my family members’ techniques, I prefer that of Nana and Matt. While I respect and understand the reasons for my other family members’ corn-on-the-cob-ologies, none of them work for me. I like the lack of structure and requirements of this last approach. Random bites. Irregular patterns, or simply no patterns at all. It’s all about the corn, not the way that it is consumed. I believe that this method reflects my own personality, much like the other approaches reflect their users. I have a creative and open mind, and I approach life with zest and optimism. I’m not particularly concerned with neatness of my room or my food, and I appreciate and practice the fine art of organized clutter. At last, I have been able to classify the corn on the cob eaters and have found a place for myself among them. I can hardly wait for August.