Corn Stalking  Mexican kernals equal culinary art  "Eloooootes,
eloooootes," chanted Jaime, an awkward and petite man. As though
in a trance he stood there, all five feet of him, dressed in his
white cotton manta pants wrapped tightly around each leg,
selling his young, white, tender and sweet corn on the cob.  In
Mexico, you see them everywhere, street vendors selling their
goods of all types. Jaime, a diminutive man with sharp,
indigenous features, is one of those vendors. Every day he works
his way to the same street corner at the intersection of
Zaragosa and Avenida Agustín de Iturbide in the northern state
of San Luis de Potosí. You can hear his voice above the busy
street traffic and murmur of pedestrians pushing their way
through the sidewalks of this capital city. He brushes his
tender white corn on the cob with melted butter and mayonnaise,
rolls it onto a plate of farmer cheese crumbles, and then adds a
light dash of chile sauce and a slight squeeze of lime to finish
the edible masterpiece.  Standin