Cornbread Wars

In religious circles, there is always a lot of talk about orthodoxy and orthopraxis – believing rightly and doing in accordance with those beliefs. Some would say that is only the concerns of theologians and pastors, but this measure of the integrity of being concerns far more than the loft musings of the things of faith.  It pervades our life (thank you Melissa Banseiver for the story of “Cornbread Wars”)

When I got married more than 27 years ago, I thought I knew what to expect. I’d read all the books, talked to friends. I knew there would be an adjustment period when we’d decide who would do household tasks (taking out the garbage and washing the dishes), learn each other’s idiosyncrasies (not that I have any), deal with each other’s weaknesses (again, not mine), and enjoy one another’s gifts.

I did not expect serious disagreements over cornbread.

I grew up in the mountain south, where all cornbread is made from white cornmeal, a little flour, and the tiniest bit of sugar (if any at all). Add shortening and some leavening agents, throw that baby in the oven, and you have corn deliciousness.

The first time I made it for my husband, it was perfect. And he nearly gagged.

From Baltimore, he was used to cornbread made with yellow meal, lots of flour, and a huge amount of sugar. In my family, we derisively called that type of bread “corncake.” He had no problem with that name. He did have a problem with my cornbread.

My problem was this: his cornbread was just plain wrong. Culinarily. Culturally. Morally. Sacrilegious, if you want to know the truth.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.