More About This Recipe
This is not your grandma’s cornbread. (Not my grandma’s, anyway.)
No one should love cornbread pudding as much as I do. But, guys, I am obsessed. And here’s why.
Way back when I was a wee little tween, living in the podunk farm town of Hooper, Utah, my fam moved to SoCal and shortly thereafter found this tiny Mexican restaurant in some strip mall near the beach. It didn’t look like much. But each plate of tamales or enchiladas was delivered with a teensy, tinsy scoop of perfectly soft and sweet cornbread pudding. And the first time I tasted it, I was shocked.
Grandma had always made the crumbly-bready style of cornbread. The kind that you have to mop up with tablespoon of butter, and eat with a spoon, because a fork just makes it all worse. Now, I had discovered the existence of an almost-dessert, but also kinda savory, non-crumbly sort of cornbread pudding perfection.
And I’ve spent a good deal of my life trying to recreate that little scoop of heaven.
So, when we decided to hunt down a perfect Thanksgiving side dish, perfect for toting to holiday parties, I was all “CAN I MAKE CORNBREAD PUDDINGS IN RAMEKINS?” And everyone was like “UH, SURE.” And also they were like “WHY ARE YOU SO EXCITED FOR CORNBREAD AND WHAT IS THIS CORNBREAD PUDDING THING?”
And I was like, “ALLOW ME TO SHOW YOU THE WAY.”
Buttery Betty Crocker Cornbread mix. And sour cream. And pepperjack cheese. And corn. And creamed corn.
And ZOMG. It’s TIME TO TASTE. HOW DID IT ALL TURN OUT?
Like yes, dead on, exactly right, just-as-I-remember-it, blow-your-mind deliciously delicious cornbread pudding. But served, of course, with a much larger scoop. Because one little bite isn’t nearly enough.
Brooke blogs at Cheeky Kitchen, where she shares crazy simple, healthy family recipes. She joined Tablespoon to share some of her best, so keep an eye on Brooke's profile to see what she cooks up next!