Cornbread Recipe — The B&B Biscuits Were Almost Mama’s, and This Is Almost That

We went to Savannah. Robert and I, three nights, Jones Street, the bed and breakfast with the wraparound porch and the garden full of camellias and the owner who made biscuits every morning that were almost — almost — as good as Mama's. And I will tell you what I learned in Savannah: I learned that my husband and I can still be alone together without the buffer of children or the structure of therapy, and that the alone-together is not just survivable but good. Actually good.

We walked the squares — all twenty-two of them — and Robert told me the architectural history of buildings I'd seen before but never really looked at, because Robert sees buildings the way I see books: as containers for stories. We ate at a restaurant on Broughton Street where the shrimp and grits were served in a sauce that was too sweet and not Lowcountry enough, and we agreed on this criticism with the unified front of two Charlestonians who know their shrimp and grits.

On the second night, after dinner, we sat on the porch of the B&B and Robert said, "I'm sorry." Not for the first time. But this time it was different because the setting was different — we were in a beautiful, unfamiliar place, alone, and the apology landed in a space that wasn't cluttered with routine. "I know," I said. And then, because the camellias were blooming and the night was warm and because I am forty-five and have learned that withholding the thing someone needs to hear is its own form of cruelty, I said, "I forgive you." And I meant it. Not completely — I don't know if completely is possible — but more than I had meant it before, and the more was enough to change the air between us.

I bought a cookbook at a bookshop on Bull Street — "The Savannah Cookbook" by Damon Lee Fowler — and spent Sunday morning reading it in the garden while Robert read the newspaper, and we were two people reading in a garden, which is the definition of paradise if you are a librarian married to a man who reads the newspaper from front to back every single day, including the obituaries, which he says are "the best writing in the paper."

We came home Sunday evening. James had survived the weekend at David's house. Carrie had evidently held a Japanese study session with David's daughter. I stood in my own kitchen unpacking and thought: I went away. I came back. The house is the same. I am slightly different. And that slight difference — the forgiveness I spoke aloud in Savannah — is enough to build on.

I came home from Savannah wanting to make something honest and Southern and uncomplicated — something that asked nothing of you except that you pay attention while it bakes. Cast-iron cornbread is exactly that: no fuss, no pretense, just a skillet and heat and a kind of humble confidence that I wanted to carry in my own hands after a weekend of learning to mean what I say. I’ve made this recipe so many times now that it feels like it belongs to us, to our kitchen, to the version of our marriage we are still quietly building.

Southern Cast-Iron Cornbread

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 22 minutes | Total Time: 32 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups fine yellow cornmeal
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 teaspoon granulated sugar (optional — purists may omit)
• 2 large eggs, lightly beaten
• 1 1/4 cups whole buttermilk, room temperature
• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided

Instructions

1. Heat the pan. Place a 9-inch cast-iron skillet in the oven and preheat to 425°F. A hot pan gives the cornbread its signature crisp, dark crust.
2. Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and sugar until evenly combined.
3. Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate small bowl, whisk together the beaten eggs and buttermilk until smooth.
4. Melt the butter. Remove the hot skillet from the oven carefully. Add 3 tablespoons of butter to the skillet and swirl until fully melted and the pan is coated. Pour the remaining butter into the buttermilk mixture and stir quickly to combine.
5. Combine and pour. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir just until no dry streaks remain — do not overmix. Immediately pour the batter into the hot buttered skillet; it should sizzle at the edges.
6. Bake. Return the skillet to the oven and bake for 20 to 22 minutes, until the top is golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. The edges should pull slightly from the pan.
7. Rest and serve. Let the cornbread rest in the pan for 5 minutes before slicing. Serve warm with softened butter. It is best the day it is made — which is rarely a problem.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 29g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 390mg