Fried Chicken and Pulled Pork Cornbread Poppers

Thanksgiving. Twenty pounds of turkey, my grandmother's stuffing (cornbread-based, with sage and celery and the faintest hint of chestnuts, because Grandma Rosen was a woman who understood that subtlety in stuffing is a virtue), cranberry sauce from scratch (the canned version is an abomination and I will defend this position to my grave), mashed potatoes with an unconscionable amount of butter, green bean casserole (this is Jennifer's contribution and I allow it because Jennifer is not Jewish and green bean casserole is her tradition and I am not a monster), gravy, rolls, two pies.

Fourteen people at my table. The noise was magnificent — the particular din of a family that talks over each other and argues about everything and laughs too loud and reaches for seconds before firsts are finished. Ethan said the blessing before the meal, which David taught him, and his small voice saying the words was the single purest sound in a day full of sound. Sophie fell asleep in Jennifer's lap before dessert. Noah, seven months old, ate his first taste of mashed potato, which he received with the wide-eyed astonishment of a person encountering a miracle, which I suppose mashed potatoes are, if you've never had them before.

Marvin carved the turkey. I let him. I stood beside him and guided the knife when it wavered, and David stood on his other side, and between the three of us we got the bird carved, and Marvin looked proud — the specific pride of a man who has done a man's job at a man's holiday, which is problematic from a feminist perspective but which I am not going to argue about on Thanksgiving because the turkey is carved and Marvin is smiling and some things are bigger than ideology. He carved the turkey. He always carves the turkey. Today, he still carved the turkey.

Thomas helped with the dishes. Rebecca dried. I washed. We stood at the sink in a row and talked about nothing and I thought: this is the day. The day you hold. The day you take a photograph of with your mind and store in the place where the good things live, the place the disease cannot reach, because the disease is Marvin's and the memory is mine, and I will keep it for both of us.

Grandma Rosen’s cornbread stuffing is not something I will ever attempt to replicate — some recipes belong only to the hands that made them. But after a Thanksgiving like this one, with fourteen people and Marvin’s proud smile and Noah’s first taste of mashed potato, I found myself wanting to keep the cornbread feeling going just a little longer. These Fried Chicken and Pulled Pork Cornbread Poppers are nothing like stuffing, and they’re not trying to be — they’re their own golden, celebratory thing, the kind of food you make the weekend after when the house is quieter but your heart is still full.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 24 poppers

Ingredients

1 cup yellow cornmeal
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 cup buttermilk
2 large eggs
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 tablespoon honey
3/4 cup cooked pulled pork, finely shredded
3/4 cup cooked fried chicken, finely chopped (skin-on for texture)
1/2 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
2 tablespoons sliced scallions
Non-stick cooking spray or additional melted butter for the pan

Instructions

Preheat and prepare. Preheat your oven to 400°F. Generously grease a 24-cup mini muffin tin with cooking spray or brush with melted butter and set aside.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, baking powder, salt, black pepper, and smoked paprika until evenly combined.
Combine the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, eggs, melted butter, and honey until smooth.
Make the batter. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently until just combined — do not overmix. A few lumps are fine and will keep the poppers tender.
Fold in the fillings. Gently fold the pulled pork, chopped fried chicken, shredded cheddar, and scallions into the batter, distributing evenly throughout.
Fill the tin. Spoon the batter into the prepared mini muffin cups, filling each about 3/4 full. The batter should be thick enough to hold the fillings without them sinking.
Bake. Bake on the center rack for 20 to 25 minutes, until the tops are golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. The edges should pull slightly from the sides of the cups.
Cool and serve. Let the poppers rest in the tin for 5 minutes before turning out onto a wire rack. Serve warm, with hot sauce or honey butter on the side if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Fried Chicken and Pulled Pork Cornbread Poppers — The Cornbread That Started It All