I recently conducted a survey on consumer preferences for eating corn – on or off of the cob. 

The results were striking. 

In 100% of responses, the consumers preferred corn ON the cob. Of course my sample size was limited to 3, but statistically speaking, 3 is company. 

But it still got me thinking, what is it about the cob that makes the corn more desirable?

Does it taste different on the cob?

I don’t think so. Maybe to a corn connoisseur, or a cob snob, but not to the average eater. 

So is it just the process? Is it simply that people enjoy stabbing those little corn skewers into the sides of the cob and chomping down?

Why is this better? The corn gets stuck in your teeth, you get butter all over your chin, and at the end of the day you’re still eating corn, which you’ll poop out in full undigested kernels whether it’s on the cob or off. 

There must be something I’m missing. What is it about the cob?

And why was I having so much trouble solving this mystery, getting to the center of this maize? 

Why couldn’t I crack this corn case? Was it me? Jimmy cracked corn, as my mother likes to remind me, but I don’t care. 

But then it hit me. The simple, yet elegant answer to this question:

The cob makes the process of eating corn into a lived experience, and people are naturally drawn to experiences. 

And in this case, there is nothing else like it. Eating corn on the cob is such a unique food experience, that it gets people excited to eat what would otherwise be a pretty boring food. (No offense). 

This realization opened my eyes to a new opportunity in the food industry – cobs.

Cobs for everything. Everything on the cob.

Picture this: a reusable, dishwasher safe cob that any food can be attached to, allowing consumers to eat anything they want On The CobTM .

Sick of those same old blueberries? Put them on the cob. 

Looking to spice up your snack? Stick those almonds on the cob. 

Don’t like Brussels Sprouts? Wait until you try them on the cob. 

I stuck this cob prototype in my “Good Ideas” file, planning to one day return, but something about this one felt different. Something about it kept me up that night. 

As I laid awake, I thought about the cob. I found myself entranced by its ability to completely transform a mundane food into an exciting experience. 

And then I thought about my upcoming week of work – the slew of emails waiting for me in my inbox, the hours and hours of aimless conference calls, my big presentation on Thursday – and rather than stress out about it, I put it all on the cob. 

I put my job on the cob. 

And it energized and excited me. I metaphorically stuck the little skewers on either side of my laptop and started chewing away at those emails. 

But why stop there? The power of the cob can be applied to anything.

Anytime you are stressed or anxious, or tired or bored, just take whatever is bothering you and put it on the cob.

5 hour delay on your flight? Cob.

Expensive hospital bill? On the cob.

Your wife leaves you for your best friend Garrett who you’ve known since you were 7 years old? Put it on the cob.

The cob is nature’s reminder not to overlook the little things in life and to seek out experience over materiality.

The cob is a reminder that life is not about the destination, but about the ride itself. Sometimes the taste isn’t amazing, but throw some butter on there and enjoy the experience before you run out of kernels.

I made the decision to put my life on the cob – to put Cornelius on the cob – and I haven’t looked back. 

Cornelius on the Cob