A little while back a prominent blogger created a stir with cornbread and buttermilk. Seems in his world these two elements seemed to constitute a racial slur.
I grew up in the land of cornbread and buttermilk. There was nothing racial about it -- rural blacks and whites alike enjoyed the combination (maybe even some city folks, too). My 92 year old mother still loves cornbread and buttermilk. My paternal great-grandfather took two glasses of buttermilk for supper -- one straight and the last glass sweetened with ribbon cane or sorghum syrup. As for me, "water" my store-bought buttermilk down with about half sweet milk.
I grew up in the land of cornbread and buttermilk. I grew up in a land where couches were called divans, where women named Stella & Ella were called Steller and Eller, and where parents had convinced children that the leg was the best part of the chicken. Rural East Texas life was a good land to come up in. Imperfect. But good.