SATURDAY, JUNE 21
The Amish farmers would come into town to sell corn on the courthouse lawn and Elsie wanted to get there before everything had been picked over. She’d leave me huddled under a giant blanket watching The Elephant Show. A noisy AC unit on the wall kept their house freezing in the summertime and the only way I’d leave the warmth of the blanket pile was if I was forced outside to “play.” She’d say, “You wouldn’t be so cold if you’d MOVE AROUND.”
It was crucial that the corn had just been harvested that morning, otherwise she swore it wouldn’t make good fried corn. Fried corn is one of the top five reasons to live and breathe in the South, so the importance of its freshness can’t be overstated. Elsie would bring home what seemed like 30 ears of corn to be shucked on the back porch. My grandmother never did any sort of food prep standing up unless it couldn’t be done sitting down — cutting up potatoes, shucking corn, snapping beans — it was all done over a big metal bowl on the back porch or in a chair in front of the air conditioner.
If there’s a heaven, I expect it to smell like corn husks.
Megan and I loaded up with my mom and stepdad and drove over to Amish country for vegetables Saturday afternoon. It’s a 25 minute drive through winding hills, and not for the carsick. We bought pickles, beans, peanut brittle, squashes, cabbage, butter and zucchini bread (the corn hadn’t come in yet). Amish families usually sell their goods right from their home, and some of them will also have handmade things like rocking chairs or baskets. Sometimes they’ll employ the honor system, so you can just leave $3 in a jar for one of their blueberry pies and be on your merry way.
We stopped here for brisket and pulled pork, and this crazy potato creation that I could’ve eaten every day for the rest of my life. Why on earth I didn’t partake in at least one of the 29 flavors of fresh cheeses is beyond me.
