custard-filled cornbread

Uh, oh.  I might perhaps have lost my mind.

To the friends who have called in the last two weeks, who have yet get a response from me, next week, next week!
To the mothers of children who have birthdays in the next two weeks who all want Rosie to attend, I am sorry.  She will attend.  I will get back to you too.
To the IRS, my taxes are in the mail.  Aren't you impressed?
To all of the utility companies to whom I have late bills, I am sorry.  I have the money, but I am out of stamps, and I will get to the post office soon.
To my editor- I'll be done by the end of the week!  (that's right, I said by the end of the week! hooray!)
And to the custard-filled cornbread who slid off my seat and overturned on the floor of my car, shame on you. Didn't you know how delicious you would be?  How heartbreaking it was to lose you?  How, in these days when I have (okay, okay, I'll say it!) entirely overstretched myself, that I needed you to stay whole, and lovely, and filled with custard the way you should be?

Of course your cornbread might not look like mine.  Maybe your cornbread will have the good sense to stay home.

Good sense! Where have you gone!


Custard-Filled Cornbread
from  Molly Wizenberg, A Homemade Life

(This is an incredible magical recipe by the way.  My friend Amy introduced it to me, and although the steps will seem a little strange, you end up with something wild and delicious)

serves 6

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
1 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup yellow cornmeal
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
2 large eggs
3 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups whole milk
1 1/2 tablespoons distilled vinegar
1 cup heavy cream

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Butter an 8-inch square pan or 9-inch round pan.  Put the buttered dish in the preheating oven. 
In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, and baking soda.  Set aside.
Add the eggs to the cooled butter and whisk well.  Then add the sugar, salt, milk, and vinegar and whisk again.  Add the flour mixture to the egg mixture while whisking constantly.  The batter will be thin and smooth.  Remove the heated pan from the oven, and pour the batter into it. Then, slowly pour the heavy cream into the center of the batter.  Do not stir or knock the pan.  Bake for 1 hour, or until golden on top.  Serve warm.  Reheats beautifully for breakfast with maple syrup.

maple cornbread

I told myself I was going to talk about vegetables today. I'm sure that you need them as much as I do right now, but in the end, I just couldn't do it.

Today, it's got to be cornbread.

Sadie stayed home today. She was coughing this morning and I knew she would be that kid at school, you know, the coughing one. So she stayed home and the coughing miraculously subsided. Whatever it takes, I guess.

We had a day, and I was a good mom and I was a bad mom, and she was a good kid and a difficult kid.

It depended on the moment.

We picked up my sister and took her to her piano lesson, and Sadie and I took a walk in the woods to pass the time. It was snowing and raining and sleeting depending on where you were standing, but the end result was more pleasant than you might imagine.

With every icy step, there was a new metaphor.

I guess I was in that kind of mood. I wouldn't say that's necessarily a good thing.

I mean, can't a bridge just be a bridge?
Even when it expands between the plowed road and the wild forest?

Can't train tracks just be there?
What is it about train tracks that makes me think of where I've been and where I'm going?

And Sadie. If I could only just let her be a child, a child taking a walk.
It's just that Sadie, my careful, slow child who struggles with her bike for fear of tipping, who didn't jump until she was four, was galloping down the icy mountain.

She skidded to a stop every few seconds to look up at me. I was moving at a very different pace. I don't like falling.

"Come on Mom!"

And when she finally did fall, sliding butt-first into the slushy ground, she looked surprised, and then she burst into laughter.

She looked up at me. "I never imagined that I would fall!"

I know, don't take everything as a lesson, Alana. Get out of that strange metaphor mood.

I'm doing my best to run, but I can't help but dig my heels into the snow a little bit. It's habit, you know?

And sometimes it's a good thing to be a little safe. I'm trying, I'm trying. But if life is getting a little riskier, I want good, safe food.

Which brings me to cornbread.

Cornbread, just out of the pan with butter, is safety in a pan. You can make cornbread in half an hour, and you know that it will be good, at least as long as it stays warm.

This is my favorite cornbread recipe. It is a little bit sweet and more moist than most. It is light and it is good for breakfast and good with chili. Unlike nearly every other cornbread I have tried, it is even edible the next day if you toast it a bit.

For the brave days there are strudels. There are chili rellenos and fleur de sel caramels. But for safe days, there is cornbread.



Maple Cornbread
adapted from the King Arthur Flour Baker's Companion

1 cup (4 1/4 ounces) all-purpose flour
1 cup (4 3/4 ounces) yellow cornmeal
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup maple syrup
4 tablespoons butter, melted
2 large eggs

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Lightly grease an 8x8 inch square or 9-inch round baking pan.

In a medium-sized bowl, mix together the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, and salt until thoroughly combined. In a large measuring cup, whisk together the buttermilk, maple syrup, melted butter, and eggs. Add the liquid ingredients to the dry ingredients and stir until barely incorporated.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until the cornbread is lightly browned and a knife comes out clean from the center.