I left Ohio and went to school at the University of Kentucky for the tree-lined walkways and the rolling hills. I stayed in Kentucky for the sweet tea and corn bread. But mostly the corn bread.
Such a crumbling southern fare cannot be mastered in the much chillier northern climates. I think it is the sweat on the forehead, the fine Kentucky bourbon on the breath during it's conception that makes bluegrass corn bread what it is. And that is nothing short of a butter and honey-covered miracle.
Corn bread started as a food of the American Indians and later became the saving grace of the newly arrived and starving pilgrims, who would have greatly preferred wheat flour and mutton over the coarsely ground corn. This was pre-KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken). KFC is another great Kentucky tradition, but I don't think the pilgrims had a lot of success with deep fryers at that point. Hence, born of necessity, corn bread suffered under the lowly names of corn pone or ashcakes, flavored with salt and flakes of the grinding stones. And probably small, smashed insects, but let's not dwell on it. Protein is protein.