EVERYTHING STARTS WITH CORNBREAD. At least, that’s my attitude when it comes to preparing a proper Southern meal. You start with good cornbread and build around it.
Sometimes the architecture is elaborate: what springs up can be an entire Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixin’s (there is no turkey on our holiday table without my grandmother’s cornbread dressing). Sometimes it’s simple, pairing cornbread with smothered pork chops and butter beans. Tweak the recipe some, and cornbread becomes spicy cornbread croutons or orange-cornmeal muffins or the base for an elegant bread pudding—though here my ideas risk being called “highfalutin,” a case of the chef getting too big for her britches.
Of course, if it’s really good cornbread, you don’t need to build a thing around it, just eat it warm with butter or, in the way of my father and his father before him, drop a square into a tall glass of buttermilk and go at the soggy mash with a spoon.
This Wednesday is my father’s birthday. I’ve been wondering what to make for the celebratory lunch we’ll have together, and the thought occurred to me that it would be nice to have at least one nod to Southern tradition on the table. Of course, if it’s just one thing, it’s going to be cornbread. His mother’s recipe.
My grandmother, whom I called “Mimi,” was a tall, solid, hard-working woman. She was both a product of her times and also managed to transcend them. Into her nineties, she was changing her ideas, trying new foods, discovering a fondness for margaritas and Indian cuisine. While cooking, she’d make a holy mess in the kitchen, tossing a dripping whisk across the counter into the sink, but the mess in dishes paid off in true Southern comfort on the table.
Everything I know about Southern cuisine has its origin on one of her handwritten recipe cards. I can see her loose loops of blue ball-point, describing the way to cook winter squash to a soft, sweet tangle of flesh and seeds; conjuring a fresh strawberry pie in the heat of summer; whipping up the perfect batch of cornbread.
If you find yourself with a hankering for some, try this recipe. It’s hers, the only one I make anymore (though I’ve tried others), and it comes together lickety split. It’s a healthy recipe, not sweet, and the nicely browned outside gives way to a soft, light inside. Fresh from the oven, with a little bit of salted butter, it’s addictive.
Mimi’s Buttermilk Cornbread
Yield: One batch, enough for 16 squares or 36 mini muffins
Ingredients:
1-1/2 cups yellow cornmeal
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 Tablespoon sugar
1 whole egg
2 egg whites
2 cups buttermilk
2 Tablespoons canola oil
Method:
Preheat oven to 425F. Grease (but do not flour) an 8-inch square baking pan or a cast-iron skillet of similar capacity, or see notes for other options.
Sift together all dry ingredients and set aside.
In a large mixing bowl, whisk the whole egg together with the egg whites until well beaten. Add the buttermilk and oil.
Gradually stir the dry ingredients into the egg-buttermilk mixture. Combine thoroughly.
Pour batter into greased pan or skillet.
Bake 40-45 minutes (20-25 minutes for mini muffins), or until the top of the cornbread is nicely browned and a tester comes out clean.
Notes on Pans, Tins, Molds and Such:
This classic Southern cornbread batter bakes up nicely in many forms. Most often, I bake the bread in a deep, square Pyrex baking dish. I also have a lot of success (especially with my son) when I use mini muffin tins—just adjust the cooking time accordingly. With some nonstick pans, you can eliminate the need for greasing; do a test first. The one thing I would NOT recommend: silicone baking molds. I have not yet been able to duplicate the golden-brown sides or bottom of the bread using silicone, and for some people, that golden-brown crust is the best part. Someday, I’ll contrive an early inheritance of the cast-iron “corn stick” pans that sit ignored in my parents’ kitchen drawer. Whatever you choose to bake this cornbread in, one thing’s sure: it’ll be a reassuring dose of “down home” cooking you can enjoy no matter where home happens to be.
{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }
Not a huge fan of southern food, but I can’t say no to cornbread. Would you say the kind of cornmeal you use makes a difference in how much liquid is required? I have finely ground and coarse; which would you suggest I use for this recipe? Can’t wait to try it out!
OK, let’s tackle the coarse/finely ground cornmeal issue–and while we’re at it, the yellow/white cornmeal choice as well. Edava, thanks for bringing it up. I was probably negligent to not address it in the post itself.
I think more than coarse/fine, it’s important to look at whether the cornmeal is stone-ground or not. Stone-ground cornmeal is definitely the better option, because grinding in this fashion retains more of the hull and germ of the corn kernel. This is where most of the minerals and fat (and therefore flavor!) are contained, so you want that in there. You get a truer corn flavor from stone-ground. Now, automatically, a meal that is stone ground is going to be coarser than the metal-blade, commercially processed kind. This leads to the assumption that coarse is preferable.
If your cornmeal (finely ground and coarse) are both stone ground, then I’m not sure it makes much difference. As far as I know, the two can be used interchangeably, not affecting the volume of liquid required in the recipe to any significant degree.
The other thing to consider is yellow versus white. Here’s the deal: traditionally, Southern cornbread was made by preference with white cornmeal. However, I’ve heard two things: one is that there is really no impact on taste, it just affects the color; the other is that, actually, yellow meal has an advantage health-wise, in terms of a higher vitamin content. I haven’t done my own research to bear out those findings, but it’s easy enough to do a side-by-side comparison by reading the nutrition labels. Personally, I prefer the yellow—both because that’s how this recipe was passed down to me, and also because I like how the bread looks with a deeper yellow shade.
Ultimate recommendation, if you have the choice, I’d go with stone-ground, coarse, yellow. But your bread will probably still come out fine no matter which one you go with. I know I’ve often made this recipe by just grabbing whatever meal happened to be in the pantry at the time; I’m sure I’ve mixed it up plenty, and have always had a successful batch.
Of course, if anyone has another opinion, different experience, or more information, I’d love to hear about it.
Great! I have some fine meal but I don’t remember if it’s stone or not because it’s out of it’s original container. My mom-in-law loves cornbread too, so I think next time she’s in town, this will be a must.
Just made this yesterday with the regular old, commercially processed cornmeal I had in my pantry. I added a handful of cooked corn kernels to the batter. It was outstanding. Flaky, robust and spongy. I’ve been eating some every time I wander into the kitchen. Doesn’t even need any butter. Thanks!
Hmm . . . Just when I thought there’d be no improving Mimi’s recipe, perhaps you’ve found a way. I’ll have to test the addition of the cooked corn kernels. So glad you decided to make this family recipe and that you enjoyed it—plain and simple, even without the butter (which you’re right, it doesn’t need; that’s just my little indulgence).
A private correspondence reminded me–not everyone can find buttermilk in their grocery! If you cannot, or don’t want to invest in a carton of fresh buttermilk, then you can make your own substitute very easily. Here’s how:
To make the two cups of buttermilk required for this recipe, combine two cups of regular milk with two tablespoons of lemon juice. Let this mixture sit for about 20-30 minutes, until the milk starts to look curdled; in this case, that’s what you want to happen. Blend well and use in the recipe as directed.