by Gina Valley
When I got to my kitchen this morning I realized that we had slipped into anarchy.
Cornbread anarchy, but anarchy nonetheless.
If we can’t maintain decorum when dealing with carbs, what hope do we have for handling the truly difficult dealings of life in a proper, orderly fashion?
Of course, looking around my home, “decorum,” “proper,” and “orderly fashion” aren’t so much the words that spring to mind. Nonetheless, hope for them springs eternal within me.
I make rockin’ cornbread. I do. And, I don’t even like cornbread. But, mine rocks.
My pack loves it, and tends to descend upon it like a flock of ravenous vultures. Vultures with, apparently, no sense of decorum.
They’re cornbread snobs, really. They can spot “mix cornbread” a mile away. They’ve grown up with my scratch recipe, and even look down on Marie Callender’s cornbread, which is the gold standard around here.
So, for the sake of my dear pack, let’s review the proper way to interact with this golden delight.
- Cornbread shall be divided into tidy rectangles, of approximately the same size, prior to distribution.
- Cornbread shall not be divided into shapes resembling Sponge Bob’s starfish friend, Patrick nor resembling a child’s foot nor resembling Harry, from One Direction.
- Cornbread shall be carved into the aforementioned rectangles using the rounded plastic table knife, as this preserves the pristine condition of the pan it was cooked in, and provides a sanitary way to carve it.
- Cornbread shall not be carved with my best chopping knife, which makes giant gashes in the pan and will then no longer even chop eggs easily, nor shall it be carved with one’s hands, the sanitary condition of which are always open for debate.
- Cornbread shall acquire its honey drizzle only after it has found a comfortable home on a plate, preferably a clean one, although plate cleanliness choices are really the cornbread eater’s decision.
- Cornbread shall not acquire its honey drizzle by being dragged through a puddle of honey one created on the counter, which runs down both the cabinets and the stove and in between the stove and the wall, to “save time.”
- Cornbread shall be eaten only after one has seated one’s self at the table.
- Cornbread shall not be eaten while in transit throughout our home, resulting in a trail of Golden crumbs and chunks that leads one to wonder if perhaps Hansel and Gretel are lost in our abode.
- And, most importantly, cornbread discovered in the kitchen before school shall be considered off limits until one has personally received direct, face-to-face permission to proceed to eat it from the baker of the cornbread.
- Cornbread discovered in the kitchen before school shall not be eaten, much less completely decimated by 3 siblings before the crack of dawn, as the baker stayed up 2 extra hours after finishing her work the night before to make it to go with today’s dinner, and now we will be having saltines with our salmon, instead.
If we all work together we can make this a better world for everyone.
Laugh Out Loud!
Does your family attack certain foods? Do you like cornbread? How do you get honey off of the wall? Shoot me a comment. I’m looking forward to hearing all about it.