One of the joys of life in Iowa is to sample the local specialties. After all, the main ingredient of good cooking is ... its ingredients.
The street where we lived, named Second-street-south-west was separated from the First-street by a large field divided into plots and used to rear yard adjoining houses. Although the area was inhabited for more than twenty years, the field was trimmed to any property mark: no fences, no gates, no post, no post, not even a tree planted by the hand of man. It was a ground wave . He did, however, doubt that each of its invisible boundaries to plots had a legitimate master and duly registered in the cadastre.
The facade the family home on Second Street, south-west of Oelwein. The vacant land is famous on the back of the house. Along the sidewalk, you can see the car that Jon bought for 100 dollars the day of her 16 years.
When he was pressed, my adopted brother, Jon, did not hesitate to cross, shamelessly, the vacant land he considered no man's land, caring very little of their respective owners. And one day I accompanied him for the first time, are still unfamiliar with the small town of Oelwein, although I was forced to follow, for fear of losing my way. As the Mediterranean, accustomed to the gardens carefully delineated by stone walls decorated with beautiful and broken bottles by fences topped by a row of barbed wire, I had some apprehension to set foot on these private properties. I expected every moment to see a neighbor burst its screen door for us to drink from a stream of insults and threats, and why not loose his dogs on us. And when I saw, behind a house, the stars and stripes floating on a mast, my fears were redoubled, and I'm already hearing the click of a 22 gauge American patriot.
The incomparable Iowa corn
Drawing: Renaud Bouret
Indeed, this wasteland was not entirely overgrown. The plot that stretched back home served the family garden. There were all vegetables known in Iowa, or tomatoes, cucumbers and scallions, then a long cornfield who joined the backyard of our vis-à-vis the First-street. And corn in Iowa, that the natives of that state called Indian corn (probably a layer of Quebecois linguistic Corn ), is by far the best in the world. Its rich flavor is spreading slowly in the mouth, first woody and amber and fruity, before spreading to the brain, plunging the gourmet in a state of bliss. Knowing that corn must be consumed as soon as it is picked, lest his subtle degrade starch into glucose vulgar, it is easy to understand that those who did not live in Iowa can boast of having really lived.
The corn on the cob is still today very popular with Quebecers. Personally, I find the variety Local particularly bland taste reminding me of both the dandelion chopped by the mower and dishwater tepid. Is it the inexorable decline that affects all mass product sold in supermarkets? Is this a consequence of degradation of my taste buds? Is this the effect of bad faith or exacerbated Iowisme? It goes without saying that I attach to corn Quebec mitigating circumstances, and I hope it will be enough to get the forgiveness of many Quebecers authentic as I count among my friends, and even among my descendants.
Which brings us to a strange custom of Quebec, which is the true subject of the topic today. This is the sacking of corn in supermarkets, collective ritual of hysterical character occurring in late summer, corresponding roughly to the sacred ceremonies of the harvests that are found among many primitive peoples.
Here a crowd around a stall radius of fruits and vegetables. The clerk has to discharge a cargo of corn, and immediately, customers, enticed by the smell, rushed. These brave people, these kings consumption, frantically attacking the goods fresh just given into their clutches. We see only the backs and bottoms fluttering, and a few golden beards fluttering gracefully above the swarm. Even the most timid start of the game, slipping in the slightest breach. It's a rare occasion when all inhibitions disappear suddenly, local phenomenon that psychologists have well-kept look.
A moment of calm we can approach the battlefield. Before us, a mountain of corn plucked. Not a spike has survived the massacre. All were furiously opened by these two-legged raccoons, who pulled the sheets and went to burn their nails on the grains. Hundreds of ears are perfectly healthy now crowned with black, showing that starch exposed does not mix with ambient air supermarkets. To save the few survivors, he will be resigned to be cut sharply, the infested part.
Before the spectacle of such a disaster, man has a natural tendency to look up at the sky. And What does he then? A sign announcing the motley dozen ears of corn for the modest sum of one dollar.
Would there raccoons in the neighborhood? Three of the six ears of corn purchased at a total price of 50 cents and forgotten in a canvas bag on the porch, were stolen overnight. Here is what remains.
A crucial question facing us. The phenomenon is genetic or cultural? English Canadians and Americans they show the same behavior that Quebecers in this regard? The rage of the ear if it is common to all the inhabitants of America North? To find out, we initiated an investigation on the other side of the border, in full business suburb of Ottawa. But instead of corn in bulk, we have discovered bags of maize carefully sewn stitches to tear-proof and totally resistant raccoons, each containing a dozen ears. What we are suggesting that the wild ritual of desecration of maize affects both our English-speaking neighbors, and, with their proverbial practical sense, the English have already found a solution. We appeal to our readers to complete this survey.
According to the most latest research on the human genome, it appears that the genetic distance between Homo quebecensis (and the rest of humanity) of Procyon lotor is only 3%, which means that the two species share 97% their DNA. This could explain that.
So, innate or acquired? In the present state of science, it is difficult to determine. But it is clear that with our scholars, the question will eventually be resolved.
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