While visiting with her and my Popaw Lucian on Monday night, I saw her make her famous biscuits. I remember her baking these my entire childhood. My sisters and I used to love watching her cook. And since she was used to cooking for a family of nine, she always made plenty of everything.
But her biscuits were what constantly amazed me. She would always knead the dough with three fingers, because her mom had a broken pinky when she taught her how to make them as a child. And she pinched off each biscuit by making a circle with her forefinger and thumb.
So the other night, I asked her for the recipe while she added some flour to her bowl with an old metal cup. She replied, "I don't measure anything. Just mix it til it looks good and bake 'em til they're done." She made it look so easy.
When I went to the grocery store this week, I was sure to pick up some buttermilk since that's what I saw her use. Then I decided we'd have breakfast for dinner. I mixed up some flour and buttermilk until it reached the consistency I thought her dough had, and I dumped the dough onto a plate of flour just like she did. I even pinched off each biscuit with my thumb and forefinger as I'd always seen her do, while my iron skillet was heating in the oven. As I brushed some bacon grease over the top of each biscuit before they baked, I hoped I hadn't left out an important step. After all, nothing is worse than a dry, tough biscuit.
I didn't even set the timer on the oven as I placed my beloved iron skillet on the rack. Instead, I watched and waited until they turned golden brown. And then...
I pulled these perfectly risen beauties out of the oven and smiled.
Since my family gobbled them up, I'd like to think Momaw would be proud. I'm looking forward to the day when I can show my daughter how to make these... the same way Momaw always did.
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