A Farmer's Market Cornbread with Sweet Corn, Cherry Tomatoes and Sheep's Cheese (2024)

Elevate classic gluten-free cornbread with a mess of summer veggies & cheese!

I'm a little ashamed to admit this, but I rarely frequent farmer's markets. It's not that I don't love the fresh produce, bustling atmosphere and support for local farms, it's just that I'm a wimp.

When I picture a farmer's market, I see myself strolling lazily through the stalls, clad in strappy leather sandals and a flowing dress and holding a large, woven basket. Fingers linger in bins of green beans as I laugh with the vendors, lapping up generous samples of juicy peaches. I then skip home to my spacious, sun-drenched kitchen equipped with a Wedgewood stove and twenty cats.

In reality though, my market visits (and outfit and kitchen) look a bit different. I usually wind up red-faced from muscling my way into stalls and bumping into people, hoarse in the throat from shouting over the din to surly vendors, and paranoid of the bacteria lurking in the tasting bowls. As I schlep 50 pounds of produce multiple blocks to the car, crushing baskets of berries and mashing plums to a pulp as I go, I curse myself for buying so much, realizing simultaneously that I've forgotten some key ingredient. The co-op, with its parking lot and shopping carts, sounds ever more appealing.

I have had idyllic farmer's market experiences, but not in San Francisco. Here, the markets are a scene. I gave up going to the famous one in the Ferry Building when I showed up at 8 a.m. one morning, which is when the market ostensibly opens, to find shoppers already leaving, their shoulders laden with bags of goods. Apparently, one must show up at the crack of dawn to shop unfettered by crowds. While the variety there is unparallelled, I just can't stomach the elbow-jabbing market-goers who wield strollers like weapons and shove you out of the way to get at the ripest tomatoes or tiniest little gems.

When friends who live in Berkeley or Fairfax or Santa Cruz expound on their farmer's market finds, it makes me want to punch them. Luckily, I've been able to muddle by these past 10 city-dwelling years, satisfying my urge to cook with squash blossoms, stinging nettles, and pea greens from our awesome co-op which stocks much of the same produce found at the markets (and not punching people).

Occasionally though I'll psych myself up on a Saturday morning and head to a much smaller market in Noe Valley. The market fits into a modest parking lot and comes complete with live music and many of my favorite organic vendors.

The other Saturday, Jay and I found ourselves with a sunny sky, an empty refrigerator, and nothing better to do than to brave the hoards of shoppers and bad parking. The market overflowed with all sorts of lovely summer produce and I thought as I usually do, "Why don't I come here more often?" We loaded up bags of corn, tomatoes, lettuces, padron peppers, and a couple different types of sheep's milk cheeses from Garden Variety, a small raw milk sheep's cheese maker in Monterey County. I even managed to carry on a normal conversation with the vendor and fearlessly taste the cheese samples given to me in gloved hands. Jay and I staggered the 10 blocks back to our car and emerged in our tiny, dark, single-catted kitchen with minimal fruit casualties.

Some friends were coming over later that afternoon, so I baked up this cornbread to serve alongside glasses of chilled white wine. The cornbread base is mostly made from whole grains, and gets its moist and springy texture from lots of butter and plain kefir or buttermilk. I folded in a mess of corn kernels and grated sheep's milk cheese, then topped the bread with cherry tomatoes, padron peppers, sliced red onion, and feta. I love the way the edges of feta caramelize in the heat of the oven, and the cherry tomatoes reduce to tiny bites of what Jay described as "like the best tomato soup ever." The savory cheeses, a hit of pepper, and the padron peppers offset the sweetness of the corn, which makes the bread incredibly tender.

You can certainly use whatever vegetables and cheeses you like here. And I will be the last to judge if you purchase them in an environment other than a farmer's market.

Got Extra Buttermilk?

Here are some favorite ways to use up the rest of that carton of buttermilk (aside from making moar cornbread):

• Gluten-Free Buttermilk Pancakes- with crispy edges and pillowy middles.
• Lemon Buttermilk Pie- bright and creamy filling + flaky GF pie crust.
• Buttermilk Ice Cream- rich and tangy!
• Kabocha Squash Pie- buttermilk adds flavor to this festive filling.
• Buttermilk Salad Dressing- elevate any salad with this tangy goodness.
• Gluten-Free Flaky Pie Pastry- I love using buttermilk in this pie crust to add richness, acidity, and protein.

*Bojon appétit!For more Bojon Gourmet in your life, follow along onInstagram,Facebook,orPinterest, purchase my gluten-free cookbookAlternative Baker, orsubscribe to receive new posts via email. And if you make this cornbread recipe, I’d love to know. Leave a comment and rating below, and tag your Instagram snaps @The_Bojon_Gourmet and #bojongourmet.*

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