World Bread Day, Too

The fact is, no matter what esoteric days of celebration you come up with, the average, ordinary joe types of things must still be accomplished, and that’s where I come in.

See, the truth is, not every bread is going to be… pretty. The staff of life is at times pretty knobbly and gnarly, and the types of bread people make the world over aren’t often made with the word ‘artisan’ in mind. Sometimes they’re made out of leftovers, with the baker’s eyes half open. Like this cornbread.

Though I prefer to use white corn, as it is more tender, I will use whatever corn comes to hand (but not yet hominy — hm… does that even count as corn anymore?). This time it was yellow kernel corn, and I had a fine yellow cornmeal to match. (In the UK it seems that cornflour is corn starch, and cornmeal is very finely ground, unless it is …polenta. It all makes sense eventually.)

Measuring implements don’t always come in even when we have them to hand, but I would say this cornbread was made of roughly a cup of flour to a cup of meal, with a quarter cup of oat tossed in just for good health. I’d say there was about a cup of cornmeal, a tablespoon of olive oil, a pinch of salt and some baking powder added. You can easily use frozen corn as well for this simple, rustic, not-yet-quite-awake cornbread recipe.

My first baking job was to smash bananas when I was very small, probably about three. Since I had a lousy temper, I took out a lot of miniature aggressions on that soft fruit, and I remember it being very hard work. That makes me smile, I must have been really tiny to get tired out from mashing a fruit that is already soft! My mother often baked multiple loaves of banana bread at a time, so I sometimes had to mash four bananas at a time, which can be challenging, since I hated “lumps” in my bread at the time, and went for as smooth a pureé as I could create with a fork. Nowadays, I leave in chunks, and since there are only we two peas rattling around in this pod, I try to cut back (or we will eat enough for a family of five. Easily.) and use one banana, smush-chunked, per loaf as a rough guide.

Of course, my guide was a bit more rough this time than usual, and I wasn’t quite as successful with my measuring. The cornbread was in the oven, the postman was at the door, I was making a cup of tea, and I unthinkingly just dumped flour into the pot… (er, bowl.) “Uh-oh,” I thought.

(Yes. That words comes up frequently when I bake. Frequently.)

Knowing I had more flour than I should, I used two bananas. And then, well, it seemed like this bread would simply need… more other stuff. Like wheat bran. And oat bran. And dates. And raisins. And ginger… and the “ands” kept adding up.

“I want to go officially on record as saying that your banana bread scares me,” Mac announced as he peered into the oven. My bread scared him? My bread scared me. With pans so small, such a high rise in a fruit bread can be dicey. Having those guts actually baked is important, and the heat doesn’t always penetrate thoroughly without without the top charring. I had an anxious forty minutes or so as I peeped at the bread and weighed leaving it to bake longer or turning it off. I finally opted to turn it off after the forty minute mark, and just let it coast in a hot oven. I’m pleased to say that it looks quite done, is tender, slightly crumbly, and has a nice crumb. I’ll let someone else discuss how it tastes.

Happy Bread Day. Artisan or rustic, savory or sweet, may you enjoy your bread today.

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