Twenty

My mother called me today. It always starts this way: (Note to readers, my mother's part should be read with a Spanish accent but with heavy guilt on the side, like if you crossed Charo's delivery with Rhoda Morgenstern's mother's disappointment.)
"Mary?"
"Mom?"
"Mary?"
"Mom?"
"Mary?"
"Mom?"
And then she speaks. Today it was to fill me in on the details of my brother's move back to Florida, and to tell me what to bring to her house for Thanksgiving.
"Remember that time we ate at that place and we had that good cornbread? Bring that."
"Which restaurant?"
"I don't know, you took me there."
"When?"
"I don't know, but the cornbread there was very good. You bring that on Thursday."
Now, in my younger days I would have pressed my mother for more information, which would end up in pissing her off and frustrating myself to the point where a big vein in my temple would pop out and slap me in the face. In the end, I still wouldn't have the name of the restaurant and I would have to ice down a facial tic from the whole episode.
I am older, and neurologically, not as sturdy therefore, I am forced to be wiser. So, of course I said, "No problem, I'll bring it."
It's cornbread right? What's the big deal? I'll buy the mix and there we have it, done and done. But then one of my more fastidious personalities chatted me up: A mix? Really? Why not cornbread from scratch? It'll be more homey and way tastier and afterall, it's for your family, why not spend the extra time? It's Thanksgiving.
I am the official bad daughter and that kind of reign has taken its toll on my sense of guilt, so I've spent the last hour looking at cornbread recipes on the internet. I did not know there were two kinds of cornbread, sweet or savory. That's a decision. Then, there's cornbread you have to make in a cast iron skillet. I'd have to buy one for that or just avoid those recipes. Then the decision whether to put fresh corn, canned corn or creamed corn in the recipe. Plus there's other stuff that can go in like onion, squash, bacon, jalapeno peppers, sour cream, buttermilk, lard. I did find a recipe that had raisins and nuts in the cornbread, interesting choice, but yugh. I think I'm on cornbread overload, a vertible corn maze (ohhh, couldn't resist!!) and that's when I told Consuela, the Senora Cleaver of my psyche, to shut up and replay an episode of Dos Mujeres Un Camino in my subconscious because the mix was back on the table.
So one of the many things I am thankful for this year, especially as I make the big trek to Waycross on Thursday is Martha White's Cotton Pickin' Cornbread Mix (just add water).