Slow-Cooker Creamed Corn with Bacon

I threw my back out on Tuesday. Not badly — not the kind where you end up on the floor wondering if this is how it ends, not yet — but the kind where you bend wrong and something shifts and suddenly every movement is a negotiation between your body and your will. I was lifting a bundle of two-by-sixes at the site and felt it go, that electric jolt from the lower back down the left leg that says you're not twenty-five anymore and you should stop pretending.

I worked the rest of the day because that's what you do. You tape it up, you take some Advil, you modify your movements, and you work. Hensley men work. Earl worked the mines with a torn rotator cuff for six months because the company doctor said it was fine and Earl believed the company doctor because what choice did he have? His choices were work hurt or don't eat. That's not actually a choice. That's a threat in a hard hat.

Connie noticed immediately when I got home. I wasn't even limping — I was just moving carefully, the way you move when you're trying to convince your spine that everything is fine — and she looked at me from the kitchen doorway and said "Your back." Not a question. A statement. Twenty-five years of marriage gives you diagnostic abilities that rival an MRI machine.

She made me sit in the recliner with an ice pack. I protested. She gave me the look. I sat. Clay brought me a glass of sweet tea without being asked, which was suspicious — later I found out he wanted twenty dollars for a school thing — but I choose to believe there was genuine concern mixed in with the fundraising.

When your back is out and you're trapped in a recliner, you cook from the chair. You give instructions. This week, I talked Clay through making cornbread. I sat in the living room and called out directions while he stood in the kitchen with a mixing bowl and a skeptical expression.

"Preheat the oven to 425. Put the cast iron skillet in while it heats."

"Which one's the cast iron?"

"The heavy one. The black one. The one that weighs more than you did at birth."

He found it. I walked him through the batter — one cup cornmeal, one cup buttermilk, one egg, a tablespoon of lard, half teaspoon of salt, half teaspoon of baking soda. Mix it. Pull the hot skillet out of the oven, put a tablespoon of lard in it, swirl it around, pour in the batter. Back in the oven for twenty minutes.

The result was not bad. A little thick — he probably should have spread the batter more evenly — and he forgot to grease the bottom of the skillet properly so one edge stuck. But the flavor was there. The crunch was there. The golden crust was there. My fifteen-year-old son made cornbread in a cast iron skillet and I supervised from a recliner and it was, in its own small way, a passing of something from one generation to the next. He won't remember this. I will.

Betty called to check on me — Connie told her about the back, because everyone tells Betty everything. Betty said "You're too young for a bad back" and I said "I'm forty-eight" and she said "That's what I said. Too young." Coming from a woman whose husband crawled through coal tunnels for thirty-four years, I suppose forty-eight does seem young. Everything's relative in a family of miners.

Once Clay figured out that the cast iron skillet wouldn’t kill him, I started thinking about what comes next—because cornbread is only half the table. This slow-cooker creamed corn with bacon is the kind of recipe you hand to a fifteen-year-old and walk away, or in my case, stay put in the recliner and call out instructions from twenty feet away. It’s corn and bacon and cream and time, which is basically the recipe for most things worth eating in this family. If he can make cornbread and creamed corn in the same week, he can feed himself when the rest of us aren’t around—and that’s the whole point.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 3–4 hours | Total Time: 3 hours 10 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

6 cups frozen corn kernels (about two 12-oz bags), thawed
6 strips bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled
1 block (8 oz) cream cheese, cubed
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cubed
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder

Instructions

Cook the bacon. In a skillet over medium heat, cook bacon strips until crisp, about 8–10 minutes. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate to drain, then crumble and set aside.
Load the slow cooker. Add the corn, cream cheese cubes, butter cubes, heavy cream, sugar, salt, pepper, and garlic powder to a 4-quart or larger slow cooker. Stir briefly to distribute ingredients.
Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 3–4 hours, stirring once halfway through, until the cream cheese is fully melted and the mixture is thick and creamy.
Stir and finish. Give everything a thorough stir to bring the sauce together. Taste and adjust salt if needed.
Add the bacon. Fold in most of the crumbled bacon, then scatter the rest on top as a garnish just before serving.
Serve warm. Spoon into a bowl and serve alongside cornbread or as a side to any main. Leftovers reheat well—add a splash of cream if it thickens too much in the fridge.

Nutrition (per serving)

Slow-Cooker Creamed Corn with Bacon — What Comes After the Cornbread