Honey Cornbread — The Sunday Table That Holds What You Can’t Say Yet

A week after meeting Crystal and I have been processing in the way I process things: quietly, over time, in the kitchen, on my morning walks, in the conversations I have with Tyler in the evenings. He has not pushed me to feel any particular way about it. He asks how I am doing and I tell him where I am that day and he accepts where I am that day without requiring me to be further along than I am.

Crystal texted me twice this week. Both messages were brief: on Tuesday she said it was nice to meet you, I hope you are well. On Thursday she said I know you need time and I respect that. The texts are tentative in the way of someone who knows they are on unstable ground and is trying not to put too much weight on any single step. I appreciate that. I am also aware that my appreciation is complicated.

I made a spring menu for Sunday dinner at Gloria's: shrimp and grits, which is the first shrimp and grits of the year for me every March, roasted asparagus, and a strawberry shortcake with the first local strawberries of the season. The strawberries are tart still, early season, and I macerated them with a little more sugar and some balsamic, which deepens the flavor in a way that lets you taste the fruit through the tartness.

Gloria asked on Sunday how I was doing with all of it. I said I do not know yet. She said: that is an honest answer. She said: you do not have to have it figured out. I said I know. She said: I mean it. That is the whole sentence.

The shrimp and grits needed something alongside them — something that could hold its own without demanding attention — and honey cornbread has always been that for me at Gloria’s table. It is the kind of thing you make without thinking too hard, and that absence of effort is sometimes exactly what you need when everything else requires so much of it. I baked it in the cast iron while the shrimp came together, and by the time we sat down, the kitchen smelled like the answer to a question I hadn’t finished asking yet.

Honey Cornbread

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

Ingredients

• 1 cup yellow cornmeal
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
• 1 cup whole milk
• 2 large eggs
• 1/4 cup honey, plus more for drizzling
• 1/4 cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
• 1 tablespoon neutral oil or additional butter, for the pan

Instructions

1. Preheat and prepare the pan. Heat the oven to 400°F. Place a 9-inch cast iron skillet (or an 8x8-inch baking dish) in the oven while it preheats so the pan is hot when the batter goes in. This gives you a crisp, golden bottom crust.
2. Whisk the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the cornmeal, flour, baking powder, and salt until evenly combined.
3. Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl or large measuring cup, whisk together the milk, eggs, honey, and melted butter until smooth.
4. Combine. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and stir gently until just combined — a few small lumps are fine. Do not overmix or the cornbread will be tough.
5. Bake. Carefully remove the hot pan from the oven and add the oil or butter, swirling to coat the bottom and sides. Pour the batter in immediately — it should sizzle at the edges. Return 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.
6. Rest and serve. Let the cornbread rest in the pan for 5 minutes before slicing. Drizzle with a little extra honey at the table if you like. Serve warm alongside whatever the evening calls for.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 230 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 33g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 210mg