I have been making cornbread without a recipe since I was in the seventh grade. And according to my family it’s pretty good. So I figured I would just jot down my recipe for the article today.

I was wrong. You can’t just jot down &uot;a little bit of this&uot; and a &uot;smidgin more of that.&uot; Well, you can but the recipe won’t be worth a flip. So I asked several people for their recipes. I got two responses — &uot;I don’t use a recipe&uot; and &uot;I use Jiffy mix.&uot; Obviously neither of these would do.

And then it came to me. I knew the perfect place to get the recipe I needed. And to print it and give its creator credit would by the perfect irony in an article about Southern food.

Roni married my dad about 17 years ago. She was born and raised in Wisconsin, except for the years her family lived in Australia. To say that she was a Yankee when we got her is an understatement. To say that we have given her grief over the years over it would also be an understatement.

When my grandmother moved in to live with my dad and Roni she could still do some cooking on her own. So she took care of making the cornbread.

As time went on she became more and feeble, and the pain from her arthritis began to limit her cooking. Roni now had to take over all the cooking and that meant she would have to conquer cornbread.

Bless her heart, she gave it all she had and I would have to admit I was very little help. I spoke of Jiffy Mix in my best Southern accent, dripping with scorn, never failing to remind her that I made mine sans recipe.

Because Roni loved my grandmother she was determined to make cornbread. She found a basic recipe, made it her own and made it until she could do so with her eyes closed.

My dad’s job required that he travel during the week, my sister lived in another state and I was two hours away with three children and a full-time job. That meant that taking care of Jessie fell to Roni.

I will never forget going to see my grandmother as she became weaker. Often I would find Roni sitting beside her bed, feeding her one of Jessie’s favorite meals cornbread crumbled up into a glass of milk.

When my grandmother passed away no one felt the loss anymore than Roni. She and Jessie had grown to love each other like a mother and daughter.

How appropriate that a food as Southern as cornbread is tied up in story of love and acceptance.

Christina Hall is the lifestyle editor at the Natchez Democrat. She can be reached at 442-9101, ext. 249 or by e-mail at christina.hall@natchezdemocrat.com