You ever wander over to the bakery section in your local grocery and see big fluffy muffins winking at you, luring you over, flirting with your tastebuds. Well, you are only human so you pick up half a dozen anticipating that first bite. You slowly peel back the ruffled paper it was baked in only to come away disappointed.
Cornbread is a staple on most Thanksgiving tables and for good reason. It literally defines the holiday. Cornbread is rooted, pun intended, to the crops of Native Americans who grounded maize and mixed it with water and salt. It was quickly embraced by European settlers and referred to as “Indian meal”. Today we dress it up with a myriad of ingredients: jalapeno peppers, corn kernels, onion, and herbs and spices. In its truest form, it is still a fairly basic recipe.
Okay, I know homemade cornbread stuffing seems like a lot of work when you can just go to the store and buy packaged, but the additional time pays off in taste and is time well worth it. Whenever I make cornbread I’ll make extra with this delicious stuffing in mind. I love using it in Stuffed Chicken or Dressed Out Pork Chops and it also makes a great side dish all on its own. This recipe is an explosion of fresh herbs, celery, and onion soaked into homemade cornbread.
Tart apples seasoned with homemade apple pie spice baked into bread pudding! Don’t forget a drizzle of bourbon caramel sauce over the top!
Don’t worry teetotalers, you can leave out the bourbon if you like!
Wake up your breakfast with a plate of apple fritter French toast topped with a buttery bourbon maple syrup. Make the bread at least one day in advance, but the best thing about French toast is it works well with older bread so if time is an issue make the bread over the weekend and put it away use later in the week.
My mother was a single mom with four kids and every now and then she needed a break from us. I blame my brothers they were hellions. I love you, bruders, but you know it’s true. So, every now and then we would get to spend the weekend with Oma and Opa. I remember waking up to the smell of fresh baking. Oma slicing us a piece of warm bread fresh from the oven. The butter melting into a pool of golden sunshine. There really was nothing like my Oma’s bread. It was airy and light and baked to golden perfection.