Corn Light Bread and The Tao of Baking

What is corn light bread? I get asked that a lot now since I mentioned it. It’s cornbread but not. You’ll go straight to hell in the south for putting sugar in cornbread, with this ONE exception. Read on for the truth and consequences of messing with history.

The Journey

The sorghum finally arrived in the mail after what seemed like ages, wrapped in a few pounds of bubble and box. I found Martha White self-rising cornmeal at my neighborhood market, and braved a noticeably large percentage of anti-maskers to get it. Friday afternoon seems to be their target hour. I live in a town with a noticeably loud “don’t tread on me” population. I try not to get too close, so I don’t burst them into flames with my eye-roll.

Can’t we all just get along?

I’m trying.

The OG

My grandmother’s corn light bread recipe calls for self-rising cornmeal, water, a little flour and sorghum molasses. An overnight wait after the meal and water are combined brings out the bubbles and hopefully the rise that is promised. I didn’t see anything rising, and not much bubble. I folded in the sorghum molasses, the rest of the cornmeal, and made a face. It looked soupy and not like anything that would bake. What have I done?

As the loaf baked, my house started to take on the scent of a kitchen from decades past. Country ham, potatoes, green bean casserole and this. This bread that is more like brick of something you don’t want to have to explain to anyone.

Um.. It’s a soft baked brick of meal sweetened with pure cane molasses and it will probably not kill you.. as long as you eat it with salty meat, like cured ham or pork shoulder.

How’s that?

My mother says that she thinks my grandmother drizzled something like grape juice on the loaves. Grape juice?

or whiskey – she couldn’t remember.

I’m going with whiskey. Hell, drizzle it and light the sucker on fire if you want. I adapted the recipe just a little by cutting the sweetener by a .. drizzle?

and here’s where Anthony Bourdain comes in:

The original instructions call for wrapping the loaf in a tea towel for cooling,

Who has these?

I took the only clean “tea towel” I had on hand. Not some embroidered delicate thing with scalloped edges – but one with Anthony Bourdain’s sage advice written all over it.

your body is not a temple, it’s an amusement park – enjoy the ride. AB

Corn Light Bread – the recipe

To 2 cups boiling water, add 1 cup meal (self-rising); cook until thick. Let stand covered for 15 minutes, then add:
2 1/2 cups cold water
1 1/2 cups meal
3 heaping Tbsp flour
Mix well and let stand overnight in a warm place to rise (be sure it rises and is bubbly) This takes about 12-15 hours.
The next morning, add:
scant tsp salt
1/2 cup sorghum molasses
1/2 c. sugar
Mix well. Pour in a greased loaf pan. Bake at 350 for 1 to 1 1/2 hours or until done.
Take from over and wrap in tea towel until cool.
*This makes a damp bread when cooled.

Mocha Chocolate Chip Cookies; dessert – but make it desert

As promised in a previous post, I also baked Becky Buller’s cookies from the All the Thyme in the World cookbook that was gifted to me in 2020 – the year when time stood still and we just ate and drank too much while working from home.

The recipe is pretty straightforward. I can’t reprint here but hopefully Volume 2 of this awesome book will be in the works soon. Heck, send Becky a message and she’ll probably share it with you. I did eat a good bit of dough while mixing it up, and there isn’t much liquid other than vanilla and eggs. Mine came out just a little dry, but the dough and the just-out-of-oven cookie experience was delicious!

The Tao Part – then and now

I’ve never been an amazing cook. I love playing around in the kitchen and sometimes things turn out really well. My kitchen really does resemble a crime scene when I’m in it. Crap is all over the place and the sink gets full of gooey plates and crusty knives until I decide to tackle it all at once.

The biggest challenge has always been how I talk to myself during and after an attempt at a new dish. I would follow directions and imagine the masterpiece, only to be crushed by a pile of ick that came out. The ick was my perception. It was never that bad. I’d tell myself I was a failure and toss it in the trash, swearing to never bake again and order takeout.

In the practice of making food, especially since the pandemic changed me from part-time to full-time hermit, I notice that I’m much more forgiving of the end result, and much more invested in the process. The lesson is in the process. If it turns out a little dry or too sweet – let that shit go.

Anthony Bourdain would probably laugh and wash it down with some mezcal

My grandmother, if she was alive and here to see this mess, would probably drizzle some grape juice on it and smile.

well.. we can just toss it out to the cats – they’ll eat it

and the truth

This week’s song self-assignment is Phoebe Bridgers’ “Garden Song” – not so much to learn to play, but to study the lyrics. She’s one of the best writers out there, and I like tuning in to her brain for inspiration

It’s not the guitar-smashing one that she did on SNL – but I understand the urge to do that from time to time. Or burst people into flames with my eye-roll 🙂

Let me know if you make the bread or mess with a heritage recipe of your own!

Next week – we tackle another recipe from The Southern Foodways Alliance Community Cookbook. That’s always a good time to smash something 🙂