Many years ago, we had a lovely South Carolina version of Garrison Keillor’s Norwegian bachelor farmers, who would bring produce by our house. Mr. B. W. Wiles, Jr., second oldest of twelve children, farmed with one of his also unmarried brothers. They saved seed that their father had grown, which meant that their corn was field corn and wonderful for cows, pigs, and chickens but not at all what we, who in those days swore by Silver Queen wanted. I would faithfully buy some of Mr. Wiles’ corn but then add it to the compost pile. In those days, Silver Queen was the finest sweet corn available, and a relative grew several acres of that for friends to come and pick. The kids learned how to pick and shuck it, we would even eat some right in the field.
Field corn vs. sweet corn
