On Corn, a Passage -- by Alex Ranieri

Our flint corn, so unfamiliar to our 21st century eyes, is rather jarring in its beauty. The variety is Seneca Red Stalker, which piqued my interest when I learned the stalks could produce a lovely red dye. Little did I imagine the plant itself could have such an effect on me. It is ethereally beautiful; and, like all things ethereal, while inspiring awe it also sets one’s teeth on edge. I was used to the harmless, wispy gold tassels of sweetcorn, often visible for miles from the car window on childhood road trips through the Midwest—so when our corn’s tassels emerged, blond with blood-red edges, like gory dragons’ teeth, they came as a shock. Its stalks, too, thicker than sweetcorn’s, plunge red into the ground, while the ravenous leaves leap above my head, ready to devour the sky. This is something closer to the unruly power of Nature than the demure, slender, light green sweetcorn—while the latter inspires the tender affection bestowed on the spaniel, the former demands the respect given to the mastiff.