On the farm & cake called bread

 A few weeks ago my boyfriend and I packed up our bags and hopped on the ferry to Departure Bay.  My friend had invited us to her family’s farm on Vancouver Island to celebrate her grandma’s eighty-ninth birthday, and we were so happy to be included. 

 The days before heading over to the farm I’m always excited about three things.  First, I get excited to spend time with whoever happens to be around, usually some combination of  her sister, parents,  aunts, cousins and grandmother, or all of the above given a celebration as it was that weekend.  Then I get excited for the slow days, cruising around in her Subaru, maybe taking a polar dip in the lake or getting a milkshake from the DQ, always blubbing around their house, lingering in their brightly painted turquoise and yellow kitchen.  My excitement for these two things is usually somehow superseded by the third thing that excites me greatly about the Torgerson Farm: the food.

After visiting the farm I bring home memories of snacking on beets from Linda’s garden that she pickles in a sweetly spicy brine, her freshly baked bread buns slathered with her delicate tasting pear jam or the dried apples she makes.  I always look forward to the  next time I can tear off warm, fluffy chunks of Alan’s bread, a loaf of which seems mysteriously to always be coming out of the oven the moment we step in the door.  And I get nostalgic for the joy of cracking fresh farm eggs into a cast iron pan, sprinkling in a few different cheeses and watching the bright yellowy liquid turn into a soft, cheesy scramble. 

 This trip I brought home a new food memory and – joy of all joys – it is one that can easily be recreated in the city, without Linda’s father’s recipe for pickles or Alan’s knack for kneading.  Just a few hours before leaving to catch the ferry back home, we baked the custard-filled cornbread from Molly Wizenbergs‘ book.  In all its creamy glory, it was so delicious that my friend baked it again last weekend, and it is now firmly cemented as a favorite recipe in both our repertoires.  And hearts.  And bellies, of course. 

 The name cornbread is, I find, somewhat misleading.  This is nothing like bread, and doused in maple syrup as the recipe instructs, it hardly tastes of corn either.  Our addition of pear jam flavored whipped cream hardly made it more bread-like or corny.  And though I love bread, and I love corn, this comment is intended in no way to suggest there is something wrong with this ”cornbread’.  Far from it, there are so many things right. 

 It is basically your everyday cornbread (presuming you eat cornbread everyday), but with the addition of a cup of cream poured into the center of the batter before baking.  This cream, though, is what makes the recipe special, turning into a delicate custardy layer that takes this cornbread far from the realm of everyday.  Warm from the oven, with the coldness of softly whipped ice cream and the sweet stickiness of maple syrup the layering of textures, flavors and temperatures is what made me pledge allegiance to this recipe as an excellent snack, breakfast, or dessert – but probably not the cornbread you would serve alongside fried chicken and coleslaw. 

 Custard-Filled Corn Bread
from Molly Wizenberg’s A Homemade Life, originally from Marion Cunningham’sThe Breakfast Book1 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup yellow cornmeal — fine ground is better
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
2 large eggs
3 tablespoons butter — melted
3 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups milk
1 1/2 tablespoons white vinegar
1 cup heavy cream 

 

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
2. Butter an 8-inch square baking dish, and place it in the hot oven while you prepare the batter.
3. Sift or stir together the flour, cornmeal, baking powder and baking soda.
4. In a mixing bowl, beat the eggs and the melted butter until well-blended. Add the sugar, salt, milk and vinegar and beat well. Stir the dry ingredients into the egg mixture just until the batter is smooth and there are no lumps.
5. Pour the batter into the heated baking dish. Pour the heavy cream into the center of the batter. Do not stir. Bake for 50 minutes to an hour, until the top becomes lightly browned.
6. Serve warm, with maple syrup and whipped cream.