Yesterday John Kiely wrote about his difficulties growing corn in Houston, and that got commenter Megan reminiscing about childhood:
Ah, summer. The time of year where on any major country intersection there's a sweet corn stand. I was totally spoiled growing up - the farmer that leased my grandparents' field would plant a small plot of sweet corn, so we always had it fresh. Dad would go out into the field, pick some of the best, and we'd cook it up that night. I'm partial to Illini super-sweet, but I'm an Illinois girl. John is completely right - you have to know where the sweet corn is in the field; otherwise, you're eating seed corn and that isn't good.
Thanks for the tip, Megan. If I'm ever drunk, in the Midwest, and looking to try some corn - ahem, see Kiely's own comment - I'll keep that in mind.