I don’t engage in controversy. But sometimes I have to. And this is one of those have-to moments.
Namely, because I feel it’s my duty as a citizen of this country to bring important matters to the forefront of a national discussion. And by “important matters,” I am, of course, talking about putting sugar in cornbread.
The other day I was reading one of my mother’s favorite magazines. This magazine is a respected publication. A standard in homes across the southeast.
I speak of a magazine which my mother reveres. She used to read this magazine aloud at Bible studies, baby christenings and baptisms. A periodical which shall remain nameless, but whose title rhymes with “Louthern Siving.”
The article stated, quote, “...The cornbread we consider our best, includes fine yellow cornmeal, butter, and a touch of sugar.”
I read this recipe aloud to my mother. My mother nearly choked on her dentures.
“Sugar in cornbread?” she gasped. “What’s this world coming to?”
Mama had to be calmed with cream cheese and pepper jelly.
Listen. I don’t like to
cause problems, and these are only my opinions, but putting sugar in cornbread is a lot like going to church naked. Sure, it can be done. But don’t expect anyone to ask you over for dinner.
Cornbread is a sacrament to my people, often served with fried chicken, pintos, collards, hocks and greens, or stew. It is a savory dish. It’s not supposed to taste like purple Skittles.
If the good Lord had intended for humankind to eat sweet cornbread, he would have given us all insulin pumps.
And yet this problem persists in America.
Only a few days ago, I visited a restaurant in Franklin, Tennessee. It was one of those fancy joints where waiters and waitresses walk like they’re in need of fiber supplementation. The waitress brought me a hot basket of sweet cornbread.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said to…