The Rise and Fall of Cornbread Salad

For cornbread salad you will need:

• Cornbread, cut or broken into bite sized pieces

• 1 cup mayonnaise

• ½ cup sweet relish

• 1 onion finely chopped

• 1 green bell pepper, finely chopped

• 2 medium tomato diced

• 1 can pinto beans (or prepared soup beans from dried pinto beans)

• 1 pound bacon cooked and chopped

Mix together Cornbread and vegetables. Mix in beans and half the bacon. Separately mix together Mayonnaise and sweet relish. Spread relish mixture over the top of cornbread mixture.  Top with remaining bacon. Alternatively, just mix everything together. Chill.

I have started by providing the recipe for cornbread salad because the internet is littered with memes, complaints, articles, rants and discussions about recipe pages that force you to scroll down or click through stories, anecdotes, jokes, or tales before getting to the heart of the matter.

So there it is in it’s unvarnished glory. I recommend it. My uncle David recommends it. As a side note, if David hears that my mother has prepared cornbread salad and has failed to invite him over, or send a bowl his way, she is in trouble. She has given him the recipe, so that he can make it himself, but he says that just isn’t the same. 

What do you serve cornbread salad with? It can complement multitudes. It is great with pork chops, Salisbury steak, or baked chicken. David has shamelessly used it as an Entree. If we are being completely honest, the rest of the family probably has too. 

As it is probably considered more of a side dish, you could use it anywhere you would use mashed potatoes, or macaroni and cheese, or green beans. However I feel that it really seems to shine for my family at cookouts, also known as barbecues. There is just something about a scoop of cornbread salad next to a charcoal grilled hamburger. It just so happens that this story took place at one of these cookouts. 

People had arrived, and more people were arriving. Audie was finishing up the assorted grilled meats. There were hamburgers, hot dogs, smoked sausages, grilled chicken, and pork chops.  The decorations were placed, and the streamers were hung. It was nearing time to eat. When Mom handed me the vast, cold bowl of cornbread salad, and asked me to take it to the picnic table, I was oblivious to the fact that I was stepping into one of my family’s most enduring stories. 

The sun was shining warmly on the freshly cut grass. I walked confidently across the lawn toward the picnic table.  Kids were playing. Conversations were playing out in several scattered locations. 

I stepped clumsily onto the edge of an invisible crater. A tree root had been removed a few months prior, and though the ground had mostly smoothed around it, we all knew it was there.  In the fun of the moment, in the comfort of being surrounded by loved ones celebrating, it had simply slipped my mind. Now my foot slipped from the edge. 

This is where everything went into slow motion. I am not the only person who sensed this. When we inevitably relive this event at get-togethers, Dale testifies that it took three minutes start to finish. 

As I shifted my weight onto my right foot, I noticed that  my right foot was slipping.  I transitioned my grip on the bowl of delicious cornbread salad to a firm one-handed hold and shot my other arm out in an ill-fated attempt to regain my balance. Simultaneously, I tried my best to pull my left foot forward, past my right foot, to get it under my center of gravity. I planted my left foot firmly, and though, “I’ve got it! I’m going to recover.” for a split second. My forward momentum was more than I had expected. My new footing, while giving me a bit of height, wasn’t slowing me down. With my arm still flailing for stability, I found myself in a similar situation as I had been in a few moments prior. I jerked my right foot forward, trying to get it under me, only to miscalculate again.

I probably went through this process five or six times, but it felt like twenty. Finally as I was running out of yard, I lost the battle with gravity and fell to the ground. 

The cornbread salad, though mostly safe thanks to my tight grip (This stuff is delicious, and I didn’t want to lose it.) had shifted violently enough that some of the viscous mixture had splashed onto my face and shirt. The salad on my face partially obscured the vision in my left eye.  

As I lay there with my new vantage point, I began to look around to determine what had caused the chaos, (I hadn’t yet remembered the tree root hole.) and to survey the damage I had done.  As I scan the party behind me, I see Dale with his hands outstretched. He had tried to reach me, hoping to steady me and keep me from falling but, alas, was unable to get to me in time. Over Dale’s shoulder, with her head thrown back, laughing madly at the sky, was my beautiful loving wife. 

I handed the cornbread salad over to Dale who helped it complete the journey to the picnic table. I then went inside to clean my face, and scrape what cornbread salad I could off my shirt. The cookout continued. The food and the company was great. The kids played. The adults caught up. The day was wonderful. 

At one point later in the day, others arrived who weren’t able to make it earlier because of work. David was among them. As he ate he said, “Ann, this cornbread salad is great. I am glad that you made it today.”

My mom looked over at me, laughed, then turned back to her brother and said, “Let me tell you why you almost didn’t get any cornbread salad today.” She began recounting “the cornbread salad story” for the first time of hundreds. 

Even today when we get together and reminisce about fun times, when we remember each other together with stories and laughter, this is one of the stories that is often remembered and retold. Try the cornbread salad. I recommend it. Not just because it tastes great -- It definitely does-- but also because it has become a part of the complicated fabric of our family.