Cornbread and Buttermilk, a Southern Puppy story.

Send us Fan Mail Friends, today we’re stepping away from the skillet and into the garden — into a place where the colors themselves feel like medicine. Think of the deep blues of blueberries, the ruby sparkle of pomegranate seeds, the dark, glossy shine of blackberries hanging heavy on the cane. These fruits aren’t just beautiful; they’re nature’s own pharmacy, packed with antioxidants that strengthen the body while they delight the tongue. For centuries in the South, folks have gathered wild...

Send us Fan Mail Step through the garden gate with Cornbread & Buttermilk, where the paths are lined with roses, the air hums with bees, and the promise of green things yet to come stirs the soul. In this week’s episode, we wander through ten gardens without leaving our chairs—romantic and wild, artful and fine, glorious and natural. From the elegance of The New Romantic Garden to the humble wisdom of How to Garden When You Rent, we’ll leaf through the beauty, the lessons, and the stories...

Send us Fan Mail “Y’all, it don’t matter how fresh your collards are if you’re storing ‘em in something leechin’ poison into the greens. That Tupperware from 1983 might just be the villain in your kitchen.” Cornbread & Buttermilk pull back the curtain on BPA, microplastics, and how even a humble sandwich bag can do harm if we ain’t paying attention. But they don’t just warn you—they walk you through affordable ways to keep your food safe and your wallet happy. From mason jars to cast iron...

Send us Fan Mail Y’all, hold onto your berets—Cornbread & Buttermilk are heading to Paris! In this whimsical new episode, Cornbread takes a leaf from Jed Clampett’s book and swaps his rocking chair for a sidewalk café in Saint-Germain. With Buttermilk by his side and Julia Child in his heart, he’s fixin’ to trade collard greens for croissants and see just what the fuss is about at the oldest café in town—Le Procope. Their mission? A piping hot bowl of French Onion Soup, rich with memory a...

Send us Fan Mail “Good mornin’, Buttermilk — and good mornin’ to all y’all listening under this wide July sky. We’ve had a stretch of beautiful thunderstorms this week — the kind that come on like a hymn, with thunder grumblin’ in the distance and lightning flashin’ like God takin’ photographs. And I’ll tell you, Buttermilk, it carried me straight back to my barefoot summers in Georgia. I remember sittin’ on the carport, legs dangling off the edge, a wedge of watermelon in hand. I’d watch tho...

Send us Fan Mail There’s something about a hardbound cookbook that feels like it was meant to outlive you It doesn’t blink or chirp or scroll—it just sits there, waiting for your hands and your hunger. This week on Cornbread & Buttermilk, we open the pages of Cook’s Illustrated 2024, a quiet masterpiece wrapped in a bow and gifted with love—from Baby Greg to Buttermilk, on a day when the candles flickered a little warmer and the kitchen smelled like gratitude. This book ain’t just a...

Send us Fan Mail The sun’s dipped low now, casting that long Southern light where everything—every weed, every wild bloom—seems touched by gold. And as we close this chapter of Cornbread & Buttermilk, our hands may still be clean, but our hearts are dusted with the rich earth of intention. Martha gave us the steps—the calendars, the cuttings, the clean lines and garden gates. But it’s the land itself, and the love we lay upon it, that will do the growing. Maybe that’s what makes a g...

Send us Fan Mail Now back in the day, folks didn’t need no fancy scores posted on the wall. Mama could take one look at a kitchen and tell you quicker than a June bug on a porch light if it was fit to eat from. She used to say, ‘If the kitchen ain’t clean, the food can’t be trusted, and that’s the Lord’s honest truth.’ These days, the health department does that job for us. They start every restaurant off with a bright, shiny hundred points, and for every greasy stovetop, forgotten handwash, ...