August is my diet cheat month.
It's not at all like Christmas, or Thanksgiving or Easter when a person eats an unbundance of trans-fat laden, high fat confections. My guilty pleasure is corn on the cob and peaches picked fresh from Niagara and put on a truck at 3 a.m. delivered to the Ottawa Farmer's Market.
I could, and do, eat fresh corn nearly every day during August. We bake it or barbecue it in parchment already slathered in butter and salt. Last night we served it with chicken breasts, sausages and salad. Dessert was a platter of Red Haven, cling-free, peaches with some local chedder.
Normally, we don't eat dessert, unless it's an occasional indulgence in ice cream. But peaches in August make the perfect and essential ending to any feast involving produce from here and away.
And corn as a main is absolutely delish.
I swear, if I had the chance to be reincarnated, I would come back as a dairy cow -- not too keen on being a slaughter animal -- who is fed farm-fresh corn each and every day. That would be heaven for me.
The birth of August every year returns me to my St. Catharines roots, to the family farm when a hungry kid could pick a snack off a tree and a larcenous one could deek into the neighbor's orchard and lift a few cherries and grapes. It was the time when I was happiest, roaming through the fragrant fields of peaches, pears, cherries and plums. I was luckier than most kids my age; I didn't have to work the farm, I simply got to enjoy it.
Today, there will be more corn, more peaches and some kind of protein; I don't care what.
I'm in the farm zone and it's absolute bliss.