The Reluctant Biscuit Maker

There always were in both my grandmothers' homes, or at least that's the way I remember it. I could say one was a town grandmother and the other a country grandmother, with one living in a mill village and the other on a farm. But they both made lots of biscuits because they both had lots of children and men who wanted those biscuits, probably with every meal.

My mother was talking about biscuits one day last week, telling how my town grandmother, my paternal one, had a predictable menu, assigning certain meals to certain days, so whatever she cooked last Monday was what she'd cook every Monday. Both grandmothers' biscuits were thick, although my mother likes hers thin. No matter, they were all good.

All that talk made me crave biscuits, and after thinking about it several days, I decided to make some. I have never been a biscuit maker; there were a couple of futile attempts over the years, but they weren't good and I gave up. After all, who needed to make biscuits when the grocery stores were full of canned or frozen biscuits? And yeast rolls from the freezer were a delicious alternative.

So on a Friday evening after work I made biscuits. I wasn't exactly looking forward to it and wondered if messing in flour and shortening was the way I really wanted to spend my time. I had the evening to myself so my goal was to get in there, make'em quick and move on to something better.

When I stopped at the grocery store for flour and shortening, my eyes strayed to a deli package containing six thick biscuits, and for a moment I wavered. Why go to the trouble when those biscuits were right there? But I knew it wouldn't be the same so I moved on.

At home I tried to make the task as pleasant as possible, kicking off my shoes to walk barefoot on the cool, smooth hardwood floor and drinking a glass of wine. I pulled out several cookbooks and threw Paula Deen's down immediately-her recipe called for yeast-oh, please! I followed the basic recipe on the flour package that wanted milk, shortening and flour.

I had lent my rolling pin out since I never used it, so I rolled the dough out wit h a glass and used a cup to cut the biscuits out. The dough was not too gummy and as I slid the first pan in the oven, I felt pretty good.

Since I'd already made a mess, I kept on, using almost all the flour in the two-pound bag. I'd heard of putting sour cream in biscuits, so I added some in. To my surprise, the dough felt soft as velvet and turned out better than the other ones. I enjoyed my biscuit supper that night, trying some with butter, blackberry jam and even a piece of Laughing Cow Swiss cheese.

I placed the biscuits in a bowl and covered them with a dishcloth, but since there weren't a lot of hands grabbing for them, I transferred them to a plastic storage bag. My oldest daughter enjoyed the biscuits throughout the weekend, although the youngest is not a bread lover and passed on them. But the dogs ate some, including Buster who ate three in a row. Hmm...maybe I'll make some more...