"If it's made of corn, could I just roast it and eat it?" I asked the bustling, older cashier. "No, it's for COMPOST," she replied, speaking slowly as if to a child. "Like with food scraps and yard scraps. Not for eating!"
Well, do I not live in the City of Roses? Of course, I compost, and indeed I would be willing to bet that my compost pile could kick your compost pile's ass. So I made sure to hang on to my 100% compostable cup (not 90% compostable! not 98% compostable!) all through the rest of my journey. And when I returned home, I ceremonially placed the vessel in my compost pile, stirred it into the center of the heap, and forgot about it.
Come April, I dug into the rich, dark earth that had magically appeared where the yard and kitchen scraps had once stood. But the groovy feeling of oneness with the planet was suddenly interupted by a crackling sound, as what should I find but this:
Well, I'm no sceptic. Perhaps the magic was happening at a deep cellular level, and the cup just needed a little more time to commence its dissolution into a couple grams of prime topsoil. So I buried it back inside the pile, where it sat through the long, hot summer, doubtless undergoing a total organic transformation.
Call me crazy, but I'm not sure the compostable corn cup is quite ready for prime time. I'm going to try roasting it.