The Cornbread Gospels (16 page)

• • • • • • • • • •

Where corn has grown, so, inevitably, has cornbread. Corn has always traveled. First, with the careful, observant help of indigenous people, it crossbred itself into existence around 3000
B.C.
, in Mexico’s Balsas River Basin region. But from there it quickly spread throughout southwestern North America and then farther, into Central America, then South America. When, about
A.D.
1000, Native Americans began to migrate from the southwest to
the north and east, they took corn with them and, by selection, developed corn strains adapted to colder climates. Corn was global long, long before corporations, pop stars, and the brand names we now call “global” even remotely existed. But unlike McDonald’s, Wal-Mart, or Pepsi, corn did not force uniformity wherever it landed. On the contrary, adaptability to the region in which it found itself was its secret. Corn, with human help, adapted and modified; it could, and did, grow almost anywhere. And with each regional border crossing, corn intermarried with local foodways, ingredients, and traditions.

When we say “cornbread” in America today, our first thoughts are of the iterations presented in previous chapters: skillet-sizzled, buttermilk-moistened Southern cornbread; sweet cake-like Northern cornbread; spicy, smoky Southwestern cornbread. But global cornbreads go in some other directions, and we follow their paths here.

Just below the border, in Mexico, we encounter the closest cousins of contemporary North American cornbreads.
Pan de elote
(literally “bread of corn,” see
following page
) has recognizable similarities, incorporating wheat flour and fresh corn kernels. Then we spin off into the sweet-savory pudding-like
budins
(see
page 93
), and into the leaf-wrapped meal-in-a-casing-of-steamed-cornbread, tamales. We find
humitas
(see
page 94
), also steamed, in Colombia, Peru, and Bolivia. And arepas (see
pages 98
–
102
), similar to our hoecakes, are the definitive daily bread of Colombia and adjacent Latin American countries.

From South America we trace corn’s transit to Europe, which began when the ships of Columbus’s first fleet returned to Spain in 1499. The Spaniards, who had originally sought more profitable trade routes to the East Indies spice islands, wound up achieving something quite different. First, they carried new ingredients, most importantly corn—but definitely not the spices that had prompted their journey—back to Europe. But second, they introduced some of those very same spices
to
the New World, such as the soft canela (Ceylon) cinnamon and black pepper for which they’d originally set sail. Through the years, these flavors, as well as haunting Middle Eastern anise, mixed with native New World ingredients, creating singular dishes that spoke uniquely of place and time.

Meanwhile, New World corn began to take root in Old World Europe. And so we meet Portuguese cornbread, called
broa
(see
page 103
)—yeast-risen, round, dense—which seems made to soak up the big garlicky flavors of
caldo verde
(see
page 318
), that country’s national soup. The Italians took to cornmeal as polenta and the Romanians as
mamaliga
—in both cases, cornmeal mush, not bread—and the French shunned corn except as a cattle fodder. But it was used in a very simple Cretan flat bread until quite recently, and in time the Greek army began to use 15 or 20 percent cornmeal in the soldiers’ bread. And,
though the Greeks were slow to incorporate it into their home baking, Greek bakeries have started to carry cornmeal-laced breads with notes of olive, walnuts, feta cheese, and greens.

When Portuguese traders carried maize to India in the late 1500s, it was adapted immediately, becoming the griddled flat bread
makki ki roti
(see
page 109
). This is served with deeply spiced
sarson ka saag
(see
page 294
), an irresistible dish of slow-cooked mustard greens, a combination that echoes, in a different accent, the American South’s beloved cornbread and greens.

Around the same time, Turkish traders introduced cornmeal to Africa. There it was widely accepted, though it was mainly used as mush (as in Italy and Romania). But the southern part of the continent created a moist, simple, steam-cooked staple bread. And thus our next-to-last stop on our global cornbread tour is South African
mealiebrod
(see
page 112
). Although it is far from American cornbreads in taste, flavor, and texture, mealiebrod is another example of cornbread’s significant global role. Our last port of call? Not just international …
interspecies.

Baked, griddled, leaf-wrapped, steamed … cornbread anywhere, any time, any way, is an honest and earthy gift of sustenance, carried from the Americas to the whole round world.

S
ERVES
6
TO
8

This simple recipe is for
real
Mexican pan cornbread (unlike the jalepeño or chipotle cornbreads we often, in America, call “Mexican”). It’s a slight variation of one that appears in Marilyn Tausend’s
Cocina de la Familia
, a delightful book that traces family recipes from their origins in Mexico to their new American homes. In this case, the family is that of Maria Petra Vasquez, a native of Nuevo Leon, Mexico, who’s made her home for many years in Garden City, Michigan. The recipe, using whole fresh corn or frozen corn kernels and wheat flour, is one her mother made. Her mother used lard; Petra prefers butter, and so do I. (I also use a little less in my version, and I’ve used cornmeal to replace part of the flour, too, with excellent results.)

Vegetable oil cooking spray

¾ cup unbleached white flour

⅓ cup stone-ground yellow cornmeal

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

1 cup milk

½ cup sour cream or reduced-fat (not fat-free) sour cream

2 eggs

3 tablespoons butter, melted and cooled

2 cups corn kernels, either frozen and slightly thawed, or cut from about 4 ears of fresh corn (see Shuck and Jive,
page 49
)

1.
Preheat the oven to 325°F. Spray an 8-by-11-inch baking pan with oil, and set aside.

2.
Combine the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl. Stir together well.

3.
Combine the milk, sour cream, eggs, and melted butter in a second medium bowl. Whisk together thoroughly.

4.
Quickly combine the flour mixture and the milk mixture. Do not overbeat. Stir in the corn kernels, and scrape the batter into the prepared pan.

5.
Bake until the bread is a deep golden brown and tests clean with a toothpick, 35 to 45 minutes. Let the bread cool for 5 minutes before slicing, but do serve it warm.

Petra Vasquez occasionally adds 1 teaspoon grated onion, stirring it into the batter with the corn.

Another option is to add 2 tablespoons chopped fresh roasted poblanos.

S
ERVES
4
TO
5
AS AN ENTRÉE,
6
AS AN ACCOMPANIMENT

This Mexican–style spoonbread pudding (
budin
is Spanish for “pudding”) can be served alongside any main dish, but it is hearty enough and rich enough in protein to serve as a vegetarian main course in itself. Thick, Mexican–style crème fraîche (
crema
, available in Mexican groceries) or sour cream or even whipped cream seasoned with salt and freshly ground black pepper are the most common traditional accompaniments; however, I think it’s knock-you-out good with a pleasantly warm green chile sauce, either homemade or commercial. (My favorite is a brand called 505 Southwestern Medium Hot Green Chile Sauce:
www.505chile.com
or 1-888-505-CHILE.)

Vegetable oil cooking spray

2 pounds frozen corn kernels, thawed

½ cup milk

3 eggs, separated

¼ cup sugar

1 teaspoon salt

½ cup stone-ground yellow cornmeal

3 tablespoons butter, melted

½ cup (2 ounces) grated Monterey Jack cheese

1½ teaspoons baking powder

¼ teaspoon cream of tartar (optional)

1.
Preheat the oven to 450°F. Spray an 8-by-11-inch baking pan (preferably glass) with oil, and set aside.

2.
Place the corn in a food processor with the milk. Pulse-chop to make a slightly texture-y purée. Set aside.

3.
Setting aside the egg whites, whisk the egg yolks in a large bowl until thickened. Beat in the sugar, then the salt, cornmeal, melted butter, and cheese. Stir well. Add the pulsed corn kernels. Sprinkle the baking powder over the mixture, and stir it in with a few quick strokes.

4.
Beat the 3 reserved egg whites in a large bowl with the cream of tartar, if using, until the egg whites are stiff and glossy, but not dry. Gently fold them into the corn mixture, and transfer the mixture to the prepared pan. Immediately put it into the oven.

5.
Let the budin bake for 10 minutes, then lower the heat to 350°F and continue baking until the top is deeply browned but still soft, 40 to 45 minutes more. Scoop the budin out of the pan to serve it.

S
ERVES
6
TO
8

The Spanish Colonial influence is very visible in this corn pudding, accented by cheese and scallions on the savory side, and by sugar, raisins, cinnamon, and anise on the sweet. You might say “Huh?” when you first read the combination, but the flavors work beautifully. Accompany humitas with any pot of spicy beans. Although not traditional, Beans, Dragon-in-the-New-South Style (
page 306
) are right neighborly with humitas. This souffléed pudding is substantial enough to serve as an entrée.