Cornbread and Cornbread: New England Spider Cake and Crackling Corn Bread

I first found my New England Spider Cake recipe in some magazine that I can’t credit because I cut out the recipe years ago without noting the source (based on typeface and memory I’m guessing it was the magazine that comes with the Sunday New York Times).

It's now in regular rotation on the Family Favorites list. I've read that it's called Spider Cake because that's the name for the cast iron skillet it's baked in, and also that it's because the cream in the center creates cracks that look like spider legs (you be the judge).

I’ve altered the original a bit based on my experience with  another great recipe that I’ll also share from The Art of Low-Calorie Cooking by Sally Schneider, a beautifully illustrated book of scrumptious recipes that represent no sacrifice whatsoever in flavor.

Key to both recipes is a well-seasoned cast-iron pan or skillet around 8-9-10 inches square, or a round 12-inch skillet. I’m not one of those authoritarian cooks who says you can’t use what you have on hand; you’ll just give up an extra crispiness to the outer surface that’s worth the effort to get a skillet and season it.

New England Spider Cake

2 c. buttermilk (or 2 c. milk w/4 t. white vinegar stirred in and allowed to sour a while. I've also successfully substituted a mixture of milk and yogurt.)

1 c. coarse-ground yellow cornmeal (polenta); regular fine-ground cornmeal is acceptable substitute but texture is more cakelike than I like it

¾ c. flour (I use whole wheat pastry flour; you can use that bland white stuff if you like, and regular whole wheat should work too. Note for the gluten-free: I have successfully made this with 100% cornmeal, using a mix of polenta and fine-ground. It tasted great.)

¾ c. sugar

½ t. baking soda

½ t. salt

2 eggs, or the equivalent in egg whites

2 T. canola oil (or butter if your arteries can take it)

1 c. heavy cream (yes, real, honest-to-goodness full-fat cream—it’s the reason for the whole exercise)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Set the cast-iron skillet in the oven while it heats.

Combine cornmeal, flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt, Whisk eggs into the buttermilk or soured milk. Stir into dry ingredients.

Pour the oil or butter into the now-hot skillet and swirl it around to coat the bottom and sides. Pour in the batter and enjoy the satisfying crackle as it hits the hot pan.

Pour most of the cream into the center. I like to add another dollop centered in each of the four quarters of the pan. The cream creates a puddinglike consistency when it’s baked and will throw off your usual toothpick test for doneness.

Put the skillet into the pan and bake until golden brown on top, around 45 minutes.

KEY ITEM: If your oven browns too fast at 400 degrees, cover the top with foil after it has set up a bit (so the foil won’t stick to the batter). The picture here illustrates just what happens if you get too busy writing a blog post and neglect this step.

This is absolutely fabulous served for breakfast with maple syrup.

Crackling Corn Bread

Recipe by Sally Schneider

1 c. coarse-ground yellow cornmeal

½ t. salt

½ t. baking soda

1 c. buttermilk

1 egg

2 t. canola oil

Preheat oven to 450 degrees and put 10-inch skillet in to heat with the oven.

Combine cornmeal, salt and baking soda, Whisk together buttermilk and egg, then mix buttermilk mixture into the cornmeal and stir just until combined.

Pour the canola oil into the pan and swirl around to coat bottom and sides. Pour batter into the pan and shake slightly to spread ev enly. Bake until the bread is set and a knife or toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean—around 10-15 minutes.

I have also successfully doubled this recipe for a thicker cornbread in the same pan size. It takes closer to 40-45 minutes to cook and you’ll definitely have to cover the top with foil to prevent over-browning.

Essentials for bike commuting III: Not what you’re expecting

If you're just tuning in, welcome to this series of mental attitude warm-ups for bike commuting. Up, down, up, down! Now try those other brain cells.*

Tolerance. Thanks to Heath's comment on Essentials I, this got added as a mental essential for bike commuting. It tastes even better if you season it with a big dash of humor.

He's absolutely right--you have to be tolerant of those people at work who look at you like you're crazy (especially on days that are on the rainy or cold side). You might point them to my post that compares the hassle factor of bike commuting compared with driving (although it makes more sense to someone who's been through the complete psychological conversion process :D).

You also have to be tolerant of drivers who tell you all their stories about bad bikers--those sidewalk-terrorizing, helmetless scofflaws (or just cyclists who take the lane as they're legally entitled to).

If you ride the Centennial Trail you'll encounter pedestrians with baby strollers who think the "wheels only" lane in Riverfront Park is for them, people who are positive(ly wrong) their unleashed dogs are perfectly polite and would never take a chunk out of a passing cyclist, toddlers who zig when their parents think they're going to zag, rude cyclists who whiz past without yelling "left!" to let you know they're sneaking up behind you, and other joys of sharing a public space. Tolerance. Tolerance. Tolerance. We're all in this together.

Persistence. You can’t try this bike thing once and then quit. After all, that’s not how you learned to ride a bike in the first place.

Your first time testing out the route to work (which should be on a quiet Sunday, by the way, not a busy Monday morning when you’re nervous about being late) may not go that smoothly. You’ll feel discouraged at times by weather or road conditions. (I have this belief that no one—NO ONE—is more interested in seeing Spokane’s streets improved than cyclists. We are our own shock absorbers and we know street conditions far more—ahem—intimately than any driver.)

On the other hand, maybe your first few trips will be delightful and you’ll figure they’re all going to be like that. 

No, honey, they’re not. Sometimes a grouchy driver does honk and yell at you to get on the sidewalk. (Please don’t.)  Sometimes you leave in the morning on a beautiful sunny day and ride home in the afternoon in a cloudburst (or you get smart and throw your bike onto the rack on an STA bus to ride home in dry comfort). You get a flat tire (and realize that the ability to fix a flat is one of the great empowerment moments riding a bike offers--it's a lot easier than on your car).

But if you keep riding you’ll experience a transformation. You'll find you're a lot more comfortable with the vagaries of weather than when you were safely insulated in a cocoon. You'll be more aware of your neighborhood and your surroundings. You’ll see the world differently. You’re a bike commuter.

Tolerance and a sense of humor. Persistence. Comradeship. Creative thinking. Openness to new things. Friendliness. Willingness to take some risks. Huh. This isn’t a bad list for life in general.

Amazing what you learn from the vantage point of a bike saddle.

Essentials I: Willingness to take some risks. Trustworthiness.

Essentials II: Friendliness. Openness to new things.

Essentials III: Persistence. 

*With apologies to Bob Hope--at least I think it was Bob Hope--for ripping off a joke I read years ago in Reader's Digest. It went something like this:

Do I exercise? Sure I do! First thing every morning. Up, down, up, down. 

Okay, boy, now let's try the other eyelid.

Essentials for bike commuting II: Not what you’re expecting

This series is about the mental attitudes that will help you with your bike commuting.

Friendliness. Smiling at drivers and making eye contact makes a big difference when you’re between them and their destination (see above).

Whenever you make eye contact you’re making the point that we’re all in this together. You’re another human being, not a speed bump to be run over.

This is also one of the great joys of bike commuting. I smile at people as I pass them and they smile back. I’ve given directions to I don’t know how many bewildered drivers trying to sort out Spokane’s downtown one-way streets. After all, I’m accessible because I’m on a bike. They can’t stop another driver to get help.

I try to think of myself as an ambassador for bike commuters. My job is to make friends, not enemies.

Openness to new things. This is a biggie. What will it take for you to change your mindset?

We all have our excuses about why we can’t change. I get to hear a lot of those from people overcome by pangs of guilt when I come into a meeting with my helmet and panniers.

You’re just used to driving. You have a habit. Habits can be changed.

Once upon a time our mothers all cooked with Crisco, right? Now you know about trans-fats and other scary things and you use canola or olive oil. You may not even be frying things any more. And it turned out that grilled food tastes pretty good, doesn’t it? You can actually taste the food, not the thick greasy coating.

New things. Try ‘em, you’ll like ‘em.

Essentials I: Willingness to take some risks. Trustworthiness.

Essentials II: Friendliness. Openness to new things.

Essentials III: Persistence. 

Essentials for bike commuting I: Not what you’re expecting

This series of posts isn’t what you think. No mention of helmets, lights, reflective/high-visibility clothing, fenders for rainy days.

Instead this is my take on the other essentials for bike commuting: the mental ones. It would be too long as one post so I’m going to stretch it out over several days to get your brain all warmed up for Bike to Work Week May 16-22.

Willingness to take some risks. I’m not talking about deliberately playing in traffic or riding the wrong way on a one-way street—no stupid risks. I mean the willingness to swallow hard and take the lane when the road narrows and you need to keep going.

The drivers behind you can wait. They’re supposed to—it’s the law.

They’d have to wait if you were a big truck using both lanes to make a right hand turn, a bus stopping to let off or pick up passengers, someone in a wheelchair crossing the street.

We all need to get over the notion that being in traffic somehow guarantees you the right to an unimpeded flow from starting point to destination. Never has, never will.

Traffic is a game of physics—or maybe pinball—with people bouncing around like particles pushed by various forces. Whether it’s a string of red lights as people jam on their brakes because of an accident, or a cyclist slowing down on a steep hill, traffic will always move more like an accordion than like an arrow.

Trustworthiness. This is the flip side of risk-taking. I already blogged about this at Cycling Spokane but it bears repeating: You’re safer when drivers, pedestrians and other cyclists can trust you to behave consistently.

Are you predictable? Can I count on you? If you’re biking in the right-hand tire track of the lane (a good position much of the time) will you stay there and not veer into the parking spots that are empty for a block, then dodge back out into the flow of traffic? Will you stay in the lane and not jump up onto the sidewalk for a stretch, startling pedestrians and disappearing from the driver’s view until you pop back out at a light?

Think about how can be as trustworthy as possible for other travelers around you. You’ll be safer and so will they.

Essentials I: Willingness to take some risks. Trustworthiness.

Essentials II: Friendliness. Openness to new things.

Essentials III: Persistence.