Ten Acres Enough

(For Q, in the style of the book she is reading from the Seattle Public Library: Ten Acres Enough; published in 1864. I'm not done writing about the wonderful experience of eating Pierogies yet, but figured I could post the side-dish blog first.)

The side dish was, at least at first before the run of groceries necessitated by a surprising shortness of onions and of our lifeblood, Diet Coke, decided on in agreeable fashion based on the the meager contents of our fridge, freezer and cupboard in the category of "vegetable," which being late in the grocery shopping cycle -- despite our considerable and largely successful efforts to stock up on shelf-stable staples -- left us with wilted carrots, frozen bags of peas and corn, and canned artichoke hearts that quite possibly predate our initial meeting at the base of the hill at Gasworks Park, that summer day nearing two years ago. While creamed corn is not traditionally a side accompanying pierogies, we are not in our minds a tradition-bound couple. To that, I submit our zombie-voiced cat and affinity for odd books.

While I slaved, though good spirited for certain, over the left side of our Viking gas range (the envy, I must say, of the neighbors who go without for trade of boat and towed camper) over the twelve precious pierogies, Quincy began the preparation of the creamed corn. Many would assume she shucked, grated, cut free of cob, and washed the kernels from fresh ears, but being a woman of much learning, and a specific frugal nature for things which frugality does not harm (mind you, she is not such the woman to be penny wise and pound foolish, sparing no expense to ship the frozen pierogies from the East Coast overnight to ensure proper freshness; she does know that winter corn would fly great distances beyond which crispness cannot hold), she opened two cans of organic corn kernels. With those rinsed quickly, she turned to the right side of the stove and mixed a small amount of organic half & half and Smart Balance butter, thinking to spare at least in part my heart for future meals and life-long love, in a small pot. To this she added incremental half-teaspoons of corn starch, and eventually, the corn and a measured dose of sweet sugar.

This woman I so admire stirred my soul as the stirred the pot: the rich, sweet smell of summer wafting through the kitchen -- my mind might have wandered to the un-sewn sundress in the sewing room and, again, our first meeting and the bright orange t-shirt she wore, her puppy dragging her towards me -- but my concentration was not lost so much as to allow my own portion of the meal to go burnt. She loves me for my practical nature, for certain. Let us remember, finding a woman with such dedication in honest nature, with qualities suggesting design by Higher Good, is not to be taken in a light manner, nor thought about in such detail as to stifle.

To summarize:

Two cans of organic corn kernels
1/2 cup of Smart Balance butter (to taste)
1/4 cup of water
1 tsp sugar
1/2 cup organic half & half
2 tsp corn starch
1 Organic Quincy