Butterscotch Cashew Bars

Elijah's first week of full-time preschool. Five days. Five drop-offs. Five pick-ups. The cry happened once — Monday, three minutes, then sandbox. By Wednesday, no cry. By Friday: "BYE MAMA" shouted with the confidence of a boy who has a cubby and a sandbox and Miles and no longer needs his mother to hover. The hovering is over. The boy belongs to the school now, five days a week, and the belonging is good and the belonging breaks my heart and the breaking and the good are the same thing and they've always been the same thing.

Mama's first week alone. Monday: she cleaned her entire apartment. Tuesday: she cleaned it again. Wednesday: she knitted for six hours. Thursday: she called me four times. Friday: she went to church — not Sunday church, a Friday women's group she'd never had time for. She went. She sat with women her age. She talked. She laughed. She came home and called me and said: "I met a woman named Dolores who also raised her grandkids. We're having lunch Tuesday." DOLORES. Mama made a FRIEND. A friend her own age. A friend who wasn't assigned by family or church or necessity but CHOSEN. Lorraine Mitchell, who has spent thirty years serving everyone else, made a friend. The resting is starting. The resting looks like Dolores and a women's group and a Tuesday lunch. The resting is terrifying and beautiful and exactly what Mama deserves.

Sarah's Table: I signed the lease. THE LEASE. The Gallatin Pike storefront. 600 square feet. Small dining counter (six seats — I upgraded from the four I saw initially). $1,800/month. Starting date: June 1st, 2023. Three months from now. I signed the lease and the pen felt heavy and the paper felt permanent and the moment was both the bravest and most terrifying thing I've done since delivering Elijah during a pandemic.

I haven't told Mama yet. I haven't told the dental office. I've told: Terrence ("finally"), Wanda ("I KNEW IT"), and Chloe ("when do we start painting?"). When do we start painting. The girl's first question about the restaurant is about the paint. The aesthetic. The look. The feel. She's already designing it in her head. She's already imagining the menu board and the display case and the cornbread in the window. She's already there. She's been there for years. We're just catching up.

I made Earline's cornbread. The cornbread of every beginning. The first cornbread of Sarah's Table the catering business was made in the Madison kitchen in January 2022. The first cornbread of Sarah's Table the storefront will be made in June 2023 on Gallatin Pike. The cornbread that bridges every gap and opens every door and starts every chapter. No sugar. Cast iron. The recipe that has never changed and will never change and carries in its simplicity the entire weight of what this family has built. The cornbread is the church. The storefront is the address. Here we go.

I didn’t make these for the storefront—not yet—but I made them for the signing, because Chloe said “when do we start painting” and that answer deserved something with butterscotch and cashews and the kind of richness that says we’re actually doing this. These bars are what goes in the display case in my head: simple, a little golden, the thing people point at through the glass. Earline’s cornbread opens the door. These are what greet you once you walk in.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 28 min | Total Time: 43 min | Servings: 24 bars

Ingredients

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon fine salt
1 1/2 cups butterscotch chips, divided
1 cup roasted cashews, roughly chopped
1 tablespoon heavy cream (for drizzle)

Instructions

Preheat and prepare. Heat oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x13-inch baking pan and line with parchment, leaving an overhang on the long sides for easy removal.
Cream butter and sugars. In a large bowl, beat softened butter, brown sugar, and granulated sugar together with a hand mixer on medium speed for 2–3 minutes until light and fluffy.
Add eggs and vanilla. Beat in eggs one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl after each addition. Mix in vanilla extract until fully incorporated.
Combine dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt. Add the dry mixture to the butter mixture in two additions, stirring just until no dry streaks remain—do not overmix.
Fold in chips and cashews. Gently stir in 1 cup of the butterscotch chips and all of the chopped cashews until evenly distributed throughout the batter.
Spread and bake. Transfer batter to the prepared pan and spread evenly with a spatula—it will be thick. Bake for 26–30 minutes, until the top is deep golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs.
Make the drizzle. While bars are still warm, combine remaining 1/2 cup butterscotch chips and heavy cream in a small microwave-safe bowl. Microwave in 20-second bursts, stirring between each, until smooth. Drizzle over the warm bars.
Cool and cut. Let bars cool completely in the pan on a wire rack, at least 45 minutes. Lift out using the parchment overhang and cut into 24 even bars. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 4 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Butterscotch Cashew Bars — The Display Case Is Already Full in Chloe’s Head