I really love going home to the province because the moment I set foot in my hometown, life becomes a little less stressful and more peaceful. Last weekend, I went back to my hometown, a place where the air is fresher, the people kinder, and life simpler. It’s also where farming is more than just a livelihood—it’s a way of life. Like many other families in our place or throughout the entire country, our family has always been involved in farming. Cornfields, peanut plots, banana ridges, and gardens of fruits and vegetables surround our homes. It’s a lifestyle that keeps us connected to the land and reminds us to appreciate the simplest things in life.
My mother was happy for me, as she always is, and, without any pause, started telling me all the incidents that happened when I was not around. During the conversation, as we were catching up, she told me that my cousin has a small sweet corn farm a few steps from their home. “If you want to cook some, just go there and pick,” she said lightly, as though everyone took from someone else’s shelf like that HAHAHAHA. We also have cornfields, but we do not have sweet corns.
That afternoon, my other cousin also went home, so I invited him to go with me. Finding some food to eat is our way of bonding; sometimes, we go to get some coconut or something else in mind. With a small sack, we went to my cousin’s house. The day was warm, with not a hint of clouds, and the present scent was of soil and grass intermingled. My cousin greeted me and took me to the patch where the sweet corn cobs stood prominently in well-arranged rows.
Being able to pull sweet corn fresh from the farm is one privilege you cannot afford to let go of. Husk removal yields a sound that is more like tearing a piece of cardboard, and the yellow parts make a sizzling sound when one separates the leaves from the kernels. It was hard not to stare at how beautiful they were, shining all over under the sun.
At home, we cooked the corn in boiling water in a large pot with just a pinch of salt. So let there be no mention of a special recipe here: simplicity is the key. It smelled like sweet corn was cooking, the rich, grainy smell that is familiar to anyone who has lived on a farm spreading all around the house and making my stomach growl in response.
With that, I fell asleep on the bed with some eagerness to eat the sweet corns that I did not even remember to capture the end result in a picture. The next thing I knew, I was enjoying the sweetness of the corn. Unlike the overcooked corn I had been accustomed to, this was ready to eat, with each grain full and tasty—a wholesome, unprocessed meal that made me feel closer to farm-to-fork living.
Such things are some of the reasons that make me appreciate life in the province so much. Picking the food straight from the farm, taking it home to unpack, and eating it without any super additions is just amazing. Next time, however, I might need to capture the moment… perhaps.
