Cornbread?

Personally, it has been rare to find inspiration from restaurants these days. I don’t care for new-ish dishes, a projected cool vibe, or another recipe from another content creator. Maybe my algorithmic slop has thoroughly numbed my curiosity and/or general interest around cuisine.

Though today I did see a video from Dunsmoor in Los Angeles about their cornbread. As the chef was going through what was going into their cornbread, he mentioned Anson Mills (one of my favorite suppliers of southern grains).

“One thing about our cornbread that might be different from most: a lot of people put flour in their cornbread. We put no flour. In my opinion, cornbread should not have flour.”

I don’t know what it was, but when he said that I felt like I perked up. I am currently a bit hungover and on three hours of sleep, having woken up early to pick up my car after getting a little too drunk at dinner and stupidly parking on a street with early-morning street cleaning (typical of me to sacrifice sleep rather than give a traffic cop the satisfaction of slapping a ticket on my window). I saw this video after I got home and I immediately bought 5 more cookbooks.

It was this chef’s definitive attitude that was refreshing. A feeling of, yeah man, draw a line in the sand. Stand on that. Not a chef Stupak type of weirdly cocky, but not, line drawn. But this line felt... deeper? No flour? Texture must be nice. Grittier, maybe a little more dense. Buttermilk. baking powder, baking soda, salt, whole eggs. Some hatch peppers and some cheese. A quick shout out to Edna Lewis. Cooked in a wood fire oven. A “slutty” amount of butter. Doused in honey, maldon, and black pepper.

Even though I’m getting this download from a video my eyes glaze over the screen and internally I have a quick memory of a late summer thunderstorm in Atlanta. Late afternoon, the sporadic downpours of rain started around 4pm-ish, but finished around 5:30 right as the sun starts to work its way down. It was probably 90 some degrees, humid, and the asphalt is steaming from the rain.

There’s a smell from this scene that I remember from this moment. That asphalt steam smells a little like tar and dirt, but with the rain almost has a note of molasses. There’s something that makes the rain water in the South smell sweet. The smell from the piles of pine tree needles that get darker from the rain. And if you’re lucky you get a whiff of honeysuckle.

I’ve never had the cornbread at Dunsmor. But I remember it. I know the smell. I know how that butter is going to feel when I cut into the bread. I know how much give the cornbread will have as the knife cuts in. I know the cheese will help the texture and give it some bounce. I know the hatch chilis will play with the smoke from the oven, but the black pepper might be spicier. I know how the last bite is going to be almost gummy from the melted butter and honey, hopefully with a piece of maldon left on. I remember how the last bite of my Waffle House waffle would be disgustingly sweet, but perfect.

In Pursuit of Flavor by Edna Lewis.

Gullah Geechee Home Cooking by Emily Meggett.

American Indian Food and Lore by Carolyn Niethammer.

The Carolina Rice Kitchen: The African Connection by Karen Hess.

Saltwater Foodways by Sandra L Oliver.

Maybe… these books will help me.

John “Cornbread” Anderson, Fox and Guinea