That is the title of a old book my dad gave me when I was a kid. I can remember him reading it to me once or twice, and me reading it in my room many times. A country boy named Johnny whose biscuit fell off the table and rolled across the rural landscape, meeting and greeting the old-South along the way. Maybe the cake was named "Johnny"? I loved that book...
... and had forgotten it until yesterday when I see a menu item, "Journey Cake", which my Belizian friend re-pronounced "Johnny Cake", explaining it was like a flat round flour-based item, not sweet, that you eat a breakfast. Sounds familiar.I ate two Johnny-cakes for breakfast and grabbed two for the plane ride home. There is nothing new under the sun, and the connections between us all are endless.