Honey Cornbread Muffins

Thanksgiving at the Henderson house. This year felt different, though I couldn't have told you why on Wednesday when I started cooking. Different in the way that something precious feels when you hold it — heavier, more present, like it knows you're paying attention.

Everyone came. Earl Jr. and Carolyn and Marcus and Tasha — their first Thanksgiving as a married couple. Patricia and Wayne and Brittany, who drove up from Orlando where she's working at the pharmacy now. Darnell came with Keisha — the jollof rice woman — and I made sure to taste her potato salad, which was different from mine and different from Gloria's and completely delicious, and I told her so, and she glowed. Denise and Robert and Monique and Andre. Kayla. Eighteen people. The table extended to its limit and then some.

The menu was the same as last year because Thanksgiving menus do not change in this family. Turkey, ham, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, sweet potato casserole (with the local sweet potatoes, which were even better than the ones at school because I seasoned them at home without a budget committee looking over my shoulder), cornbread dressing, cranberry sauce, deviled eggs, rolls. Dessert: sweet potato pie, pecan pie, Tasha's rum cake (a new addition that everyone agreed was extraordinary and that I agreed was a worthy entry to the Henderson dessert table, which is the highest honor I bestow).

Earl said grace. Longer this year. He said, "Lord, thank you for this family. Thank you for this table. Thank you for the hands that made this food and the hearts that fill this house. Thank you for another year." And then he paused. And he said, "And thank you for Dot. For every meal and every morning and every year." I looked at him across the table. He was looking at me. And in that look I saw forty-one years of marriage and four children and a heart attack and a son buried and a granddaughter raised and a garden built and a life — our life, ordinary and extraordinary, made of food and faith and showing up. I said, "Amen." It came out like a whisper. It was the loudest thing in the room.

After dinner, Marcus and Darnell arm-wrestled in the kitchen and knocked over a glass of tea. Andre tried to eat an entire pecan pie and was stopped at the third slice by his mother. Tasha and Keisha exchanged phone numbers and Kayla fell asleep on the couch. Earl fell asleep in his recliner. And I stood in the kitchen doorway — my spot, my watchtower — and I counted heads and I memorized faces and I told myself: remember this. Remember all of this. Remember the noise and the mess and the tea on the floor and the man in the recliner and the table that was too small and the love that was too big. Remember it, Dot. You don't know how many more you get.

Now go on and feed somebody.

The cornbread dressing is the centerpiece, yes, but it starts here — with these muffins, baked the morning of, still warm when people start arriving and reaching. I’ve made cornbread more times than I can count for this family, but after hearing Earl say my name in that prayer the way he did — after standing in my kitchen doorway counting heads and memorizing faces — I wanted to write this one down for good. For Tasha and Keisha and Brittany and whoever else comes to this table in the years ahead. This is the foundation. You start with cornbread, and you build everything else from there.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 18 minutes | Total Time: 28 minutes | Servings: 12 muffins

Ingredients

1 cup yellow cornmeal
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon fine salt
1 cup buttermilk, room temperature
2 large eggs, room temperature
1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
3 tablespoons honey, plus more for serving
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 400°F. Grease a standard 12-cup muffin tin generously with butter or non-stick spray, making sure to coat the rims as well.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt until evenly combined. Make a well in the center.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl or large measuring cup, whisk together the buttermilk, eggs, melted butter, honey, and vanilla extract until smooth.
Combine. Pour the wet ingredients into the well of the dry ingredients and stir gently with a wooden spoon or spatula until just combined. A few small lumps are fine — do not overmix or the muffins will be tough.
Fill and bake. Divide the batter evenly among the 12 muffin cups, filling each about 3/4 full. Bake for 16 to 18 minutes, until the tops are golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Rest and serve. Let the muffins cool in the pan for 5 minutes before turning out. Serve warm with a drizzle of extra honey and good butter alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Honey Cornbread Muffins — For the Table That Was Too Small and the Love That Was Too Big