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My brother and I used to fight over shucking duties. Sitting out on the front porch with a paper bag between our legs, the lucky one got to rip the leaves off the cob, freeing wisps of corn silk confetti into the air — and all over our steps. (I wonder now if my parents fought over post-corn shucking cleanup with equal enthusiasm.)

The naked corn would then get submerged in a pot of boiling water or milk before being paired with a plate of crab or artichokes or something equally summery. And all those husks got tossed in the trash — because, remember, we’re talking about the pre-composting 90s here.

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