Growing up, we never had bread at every meal…no basket in the middle of the table of warm dinner rolls, or a loaf of hot and crusty French bread. If we had any kind of bread on the table it was golden cornbread, cut in wedges from a pie pan! I remember it all so well. Early dinners on Sundays at Granny and Grandpa’s house in Altadena, California. It was a recipe that Granny made every week. Timed perfectly, she’d take it straight from the oven, as we were washing our grimy little hands before we sat down for supper!
Cornbread was our take on bread. Never sweet like you often see served at restaurants. Sweet Honey cornbread? “No no no…that’s a sin” she’d say! Although I’m a fan of sweet and savory…not here, though! Not when it comes to my cornbread! A true southerner, Granny only made cornbread with a grainy texture, sunny bright and golden. If it was rich and heavy with sweetness, you’d lose the goodness when sopping up the pot liquor from collard greens and the smoky ham hock broth from the black eyed peas. That my friends would be a sin!