Homestyle Cornbread

The wedding was Saturday, May 18, 2024, and I am going to tell you about it the only way I know how, which is slowly and from the inside.

I woke at five AM in the hotel room and Connie was already awake, already in the bathroom, already being the woman who is ready before the world asks her to be. I put on the suit — the new suit, the one Connie picked, the one that fits a body that has been a miner's body and a builder's body and a retired man's body and is now a father-of-the-bride's body, and the suit held all of those bodies and made them look respectable, which is the most a suit can do.

I didn't eat breakfast. Couldn't. Made coffee in the hotel room and drank it standing at the window looking at the Louisville skyline and thinking about Amber at three years old in the kitchen in Evarts, standing on a chair next to Betty, both of them covered in flour, both of them laughing, and Betty saying this girl's going to be something, Craig, you watch. I watched. I've been watching for twenty-eight years and Betty was right.

The aisle. The aisle was sixty feet of hardwood floor between chairs filled with people I love and people I don't know and James standing at the end in a suit that fit better than mine with a face that was trying very hard not to cry, which I respected because I was trying the same thing and losing. Amber took my arm. She was in white. She was — I don't have the word. Beautiful isn't enough. Radiant isn't enough. She was my daughter in a white dress with flowers in her hair and she was walking beside me toward the rest of her life and my job was to deliver her safely to the beginning of it, and that is the simplest and hardest thing a father can do.

We walked. Sixty feet. I counted the steps because counting kept the tears back for thirty of them. At step thirty-one the tears won. Amber squeezed my arm. I squeezed back. We reached James. I shook his hand. I put Amber's hand in his hand. I said you take care of her. He said I will, sir. I sat down next to Connie and she took my hand and held it and I cried through the vows and the rings and the kiss and I don't care who saw because some tears are not weakness. Some tears are the weight of everything you've ever loved landing in a single moment, and that moment was my daughter saying I do to a man who makes jollof rice and loves her completely, and I do was enough. I do was everything.

The food was Nigerian and American and the combination was perfect because the marriage is Nigerian and American and the food should reflect the people. Jollof rice and fried chicken. Suya and corn on the cob. Chin chin and Derby pie. Two cultures on one table, the way two families are now one family, and I ate everything and went back for more because the food was good and going back for more is how I say I approve.

The wedding table had jollof rice and suya on one end and corn on the cob and Derby pie on the other, and every plate I made for myself had something from both sides, because that’s what the day was — two families, one table, nothing left out. I’ve been making cornbread since before Amber was born, the same way my mother made it in Harlan County, and when I got home from Louisville with Connie and the suit was back on the hanger and the hotel was behind us, the first thing I wanted was a pan of this. It’s the American end of that table. It’s the taste of every ordinary Tuesday that built up to that extraordinary Saturday, and I make it now and I think about Amber saying I do, and that’s enough reason to bake anything.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 cup yellow cornmeal
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup buttermilk
2 large eggs
1/4 cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, plus more for the pan

Instructions

Preheat and prepare. Heat your oven to 400°F. Coat a 9-inch cast-iron skillet or square baking pan generously with vegetable oil and place it in the oven while it preheats — a hot pan gives the cornbread a crisp, golden bottom crust.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt until evenly combined.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl or large measuring cup, whisk together the buttermilk, eggs, and melted butter until smooth.
Combine. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently with a spatula until just combined. A few small lumps are fine — do not overmix or the cornbread will be tough.
Bake. Carefully remove the hot pan from the oven. Pour in the batter — it should sizzle against the hot surface. Return the pan to the oven and bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until the top is golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Rest and serve. Let the cornbread cool in the pan for 5 minutes before slicing into wedges or squares. Serve warm with butter.

Nutrition (per serving)

Homestyle Cornbread — The American Side of a Table That Held Everything