Who doesn’t love corn?
Creamed, on the cob, or popped with that warm butter-like substance they put on it at the movie theater.
Who doesn’t love a warm slab of cornbread wet with butter, and oozing with sweet honey?
We first taste corn either through Gerber Baby Foods strained corn, or Tony the Tiger’s Corn Flakes. It will be years until our pasty little baby hands can hold up a cob of corn grilled over hot coals.
There is even candy made with corn and it is consumed by the bushel during Halloween season. You may have noticed the only corn in candy corn is the corn syrup used in the recipe. I personally never cared for the brown, orange, yellow and white triangles. Kind of waxy, and not all that flavorful.
Rabid Nebraska Cornhusker football fans even wear cobs of corn as hats as they cheer on their beloved football team.
That is lame.
Not as lame as the Alabama rednecks who bring a toilet paper roll to games (Roll Tide. Get it?)
Corn fritters aren’t bad, but how often can you pork one of those down?
If I eat corn, I like it to be crisp and explode in my mouth. White corn rocks.
And don’t forget the dental floss. Inevitably, a kernel or three will get stuck between your teeth and you will have to dislodge them before artfully French kissing someone.
Corn muffins are OK, but isn’t that really just another shape of cornbread?
I ate corn pudding in England and absolutely loved it, just as I did Yorkshire “pudding.”
There is also Christmas pudding as well as the Americanized concept of pudding: Vanilla, Chocolate, Butterscotch, Banana, if there is a fruit or nut, you can count on there being a pudding in that flavor.
I don’t know of any pudding that is naturally low-calorie. Just like I don’t know of any steak that is low-calorie.
Shut up, eat the fatty medium-rare slab of prime rib with a nice garlic-pepper “bark” and drizzle a little extra lamb gravy over your Yorkshire pud and live a little.
Just don’t eat like that every single day and you’ll be good.
I heard a sports announcer for a UFC bout once describe a bout as a “massacre.” He went on to tell how one fighter turned the other combatant’s face into “pudding”.
That does not sound appetizing in any way, shape, or form, and I am glad I didn’t see the massacre live. Especially while I was eating pudding.
Remember the Elvis Presley movie, back when it seemed he produced a new movie every other month or so, where he played a boxer who used to get the living shit beat out of him until miraculously, at the very last minute, he found the strength to turn the tables and demolish his hapless opponent?
The movie was Kid Galahad, and of course, since I have black hair, I was Elvis winning over the girls and kicking the shit out of the guys.
I wonder why Karen thinks I live in a dream world.