What's That Smell

Finding something new to have for lunch every day can get a bit tedious, so it is nice when the bounty of the season brings a little change. During September we watch out for fresh corn on the cobs to arrive in our local supermarket because we know that we will get a splendid lunch out of them. There's nothing quite like a nice piece of fresh corn dripping with butter and pepper. We always eat this culinary delight with a couple of ham sandwiches and it is delicious.

Anyway, this year we waited through September but the supermarket didn't have any normal cobs. They did however, have some cobs that were prepacked in plastic bags that we shied away from while we waited for the real McCoy to arrive.

We waited in vain, so eventually, because we were sick of waiting and because we were looking forward to our special lunch, we gave in and purchased a brace of the bagged cobs.

When we arrived home, I set about making the ham sandwiches while my wife cooked the cobs. She cooked them in the plastic bags as per instructions and we were soon tucking into them.

Disappointed isn't really a strong enough word to describe how these bagged up corn cobs tasted and, after a couple of bites, I could see that my wife wasn't impressed either. However, I had to be careful about how I approached the subject because I didn't want to offend her. She isn't one for chucking plates up the wall at the slightest criticism of her cooking, but I needed to be tactful all the same.

"What do you think of these new cobs, sweetheart?" I asked.


"Not much," she replied, "in fact, I can smell something funny," she said as she sniffed her hands.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I can smell something funny on my hands, it's in my mouth and I can taste it down the back of my throat."

I carried on chewing on my cob as I asked her another question. "What does it smell like?"

"It's alright," she said, "you just carry on eating."

I did carry on eating but curiosity had got the better of me. "Come on, tell me what you can smell."

"No, I don't want to."

"Come on tell me what it is."

"No, I'd rather not, sorry."

"Come on, tell me please," I encouraged her as I carried on eating, but I could see she was giving in now as her face gave way to annoyance.

"Okay, you did ask. All I can smell is (click here for the answer)