This got me to thinking, always dangerous when I am in the mood I am in. I
grew up surrounded by corn. As a kid I planted, cultivated, weeded,
chopped, and harvested corn, and played in corn cribs, shoot rats around
corn cribs, hid in corn rows, and fed corn to hogs and corn silage to
cattle. We ate corn fed pork and cattle after they had been turned out on
the corn fields after harvesting. My father sold seed corn.
We farmed the place my grandfather farmed. Until it ended with me the Bowen
family has corn farmed since the 1620s. My cousin still farms 1400 acres
of Mississippi bottom land in northern Missouri. My grandmother knew just
about every way possible to cook corn, corn bread, corn pone, make Hominy,
Grits, you name it. We ate field corn as corn on the cob. But over the
years about the only thing I get anymore is sweet corn on the cob and corn
bread. The last time I had decent hominy was some my aunt made. Maybe I
need to relearn some of those recipes and get reacquainted.