A Skillet Cornbread for Chili Nights and Cold Mornings

Cornbread is one of those recipes that people feel strongly about. Some like it sweet and cakey, some like it savory and dense. I fall somewhere in the middle, but I always bake it in a cast-iron skillet, because the crust that forms against the hot metal is the best part. This version is just sweet enough to be good with butter and honey in the morning, but not so sweet that it fights with a bowl of chili at night. It comes together in one bowl, uses ingredients I almost always have on hand, and bakes in less time than it takes to set the table.

Getting the Skillet Hot

The key to a good crust is preheating the skillet with a little fat in it. I put my ten-inch cast-iron pan in the oven with a tablespoon of butter or bacon grease and let it get hot while the oven comes to 425 degrees. Meanwhile, I whisk together the dry ingredients: cornmeal, a little flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. I use a medium-grind cornmeal, because fine cornmeal can turn mushy and coarse cornmeal can be gritty. Then I whisk the wet ingredients in a separate bowl: buttermilk, an egg, and a little honey or maple syrup. If I don't have buttermilk, I'll stir a tablespoon of lemon juice into a cup of milk and let it sit for a few minutes. The wet ingredients go into the dry, and I stir just until everything is combined. Lumps are fine; overmixing makes the cornbread tough.

Baking, Cutting, and Serving

When the skillet is hot, I pull it out of the oven, swirl the melted fat around to coat the bottom and sides, and pour in the batter. It should sizzle a little as it hits the pan. Then it goes back into the oven for about twenty minutes, until the top is golden and a toothpick comes out clean. I let it cool in the pan for a few minutes before cutting it into wedges. The first piece always disappears before it reaches a plate, eaten standing at the counter with a little extra butter. The rest goes into a basket for dinner. Leftovers, if there are any, are good split and toasted the next morning, or crumbled into a bowl with milk and a spoonful of jam. I've also been known to make a batch just to have with a pot of beans on a Sunday afternoon, when the house is quiet and the oven is warm and there's nowhere else to be.