It’s been three years. Besides being married for three years this week, it is also the third anniversary of one of the best wedding gifts I received. It was just a 3×5 card. Handwritten in simple blue pen is the recipe for “Justin’s Biscuits”. Mamas know what makes their babies happy. And good mamas pass that information on to their wives.
There are books, restaurants, documentaries and cooking shows dedicated to this love affair that Southerners and beyond have with this light, fluffy, buttery, palm size bread. As a little girl, it was one of the first words I learned to say and then later spell. My grandfather took great pride in teaching me the complex spelling of such a simple food. In college, one student body president candidate even made the campaign promise of no more burned biscuits in the cafeteria.
There are only three ingredients in my recipe, flour, fat and dairy, so simple yet in some ways complex. If your ratios are off you could have a flat mess. Or if you mix too much you could have a hockey puck. Or if you leave them in too long, well you’ve gone and burned the biscuits. No one is happy if those things happen. But if the balance is perfect, you handle that dough with love and care as if it is your own child, and if you wait for the perfect time… well, magic can happen. Oh, the life lessons I have learned while making biscuits.
Hopefully one day, I’ll be able to pass this recipe along just like my mother-in-law did for me. But for now it’s permanent home is safely stuck on the side of the refrigerator. It’s served me well for three years so far, and we’ve got a lifetime to go.
I made these last night for dinner.