By Tom and I rebuilt the porch. Three weekends. The old porch was beyond repair — the joists were rotted, the boards were warped, the whole thing tilted at an angle that suggested it was slowly giving up on life. We tore it out and rebuilt it from scratch: new joists, new boards, new railing. Tom did the structural work. I did the deck boards. We worked in the July heat, sweating, drinking water, not talking much.
On the second Saturday, Tom stopped hammering and stood on the new porch and looked at the street and said, "This reminds me of building the deck at the Cape Cod." I said, "When was that?" He said, "Before you were born. Your mother was pregnant. I wanted the deck done before you arrived." He paused. "I wanted things to be ready." I looked at the porch. The new boards. The solid joists. The house behind us with the kitchen Babcia would recognize. I said, "Were they ready?" He said, "They're never ready. You just do the best you can." He went back to hammering. I went back to hammering. The best you can. That's fatherhood. That's everything.
Megan brought us lunch — sandwiches and lemonade and the particular gratitude of a woman whose porch no longer threatens to collapse when she sits on it. She sat on the new boards and tested the railing and said, "It doesn't wobble." Tom said, "It won't wobble." He was right. It won't wobble. Tom doesn't build things that wobble.
Made bratwurst for dinner — grilled on the new patio, eaten on the new porch, with mustard and sauerkraut. The first meal on the porch. The brats were good. The porch was better. Some things you build with wood. Some things you build with food. Both hold.
The brats got the glory that night, but it was the corn that made the meal feel like a celebration — something bright and summery to match the pride of sitting on boards we’d laid ourselves. I’d picked up a half-dozen ears at the farm stand on the way back from the hardware store that second Saturday, the same day Tom told me about building the Cape Cod deck before I was born, and something about the simplicity of corn felt right for a dinner eaten on a porch that had just come back to life. Lemon pepper butter takes thirty seconds to make and turns an already good thing into something you remember. That’s not a bad lesson from a summer of building.
Corn On The Cob With Lemon Pepper Butter
Prep Time: 5 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 20 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 6 ears fresh corn, husked and silked
- 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
- 1 teaspoon lemon pepper seasoning
- 1/2 teaspoon fresh lemon zest
- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- Optional: chopped fresh parsley for garnish
Instructions
- Make the lemon pepper butter. In a small bowl, combine the softened butter, lemon pepper seasoning, lemon zest, lemon juice, and kosher salt. Stir until fully blended. Set aside at room temperature.
- Prepare the grill. Preheat your grill to medium-high heat, around 400—425°F. Clean and lightly oil the grates.
- Grill the corn. Place husked ears directly on the grill grates. Cook for 12—15 minutes, turning every 3—4 minutes, until kernels are lightly charred in spots and tender throughout.
- Butter immediately. Remove corn from the grill and while still hot, spread a generous spoonful of lemon pepper butter over each ear. The butter will melt into every kernel.
- Serve. Transfer to a platter, garnish with parsley if using, and serve alongside bratwurst or any grilled main. Best eaten outdoors, on a porch that doesn’t wobble.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 185 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 19g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 180mg