Here’s some biscuits I just made:
I think they’re only OK. And here is why: I live in Texas now. I should get around to accepting this part of my life. But I’m an Angelena at heart. And a Torontonian by transplant. I have a really hard time fathoming that I live in Texas. In a city that isn’t a million people big. But one thing they have here is biscuits. And I really like biscuits. I just have a fuck of a time trying to get them just right.
Now I hear some of you saying “bisquick!” I reject this notion nearly as much as I’m in denial about my state of residence. Bisquick is not as good as from scratch.
Because I say so.
So I’ve tried about nineteen gajillion recipes for biscuits. I realized 1/3 of the way through that they need baking powder. I managed to forget twice after buying baking powder that I had bought baking powder, so I have three cans of it in the pantry. I also don’t have a sifter. Or nylons to makeshift a sifter. (If you’re reading this emmie: I also don’t have a good strainer, enough measuring cups and spoons and neither have I enough aprons and bar towels.) So, right. The recipe I used:
Biscuits that didn’t turn out quite right:
2c flour
1/2c lard
+ 2tbs butter
1 tbs baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 tbs sugar (?)
1/2c milk
They are kind of flat tasting, despite the addition of garlic and cheese. Rather dense, as well (possibly slightly underbaked??) and not flaky at all.
So
You know how I love the moral of the story, right?
Here’s what biscuits taught me tonight:
It’s ok to ask for help. It seems simple enough to seek assistance for a biscuit recipe, right? At the outset, no big deal. But the bitch of it comes in when it comes to admitting that without aid, I will continue to fuck up the biscuits.
Like a lot of things, right, saying “I don’t do it well enough, can you help me improve?” isn’t the most sweet thing to taste in my mouth. The words of humility, though, is the building of bridges. And those are lovely to behold, the architecture of a bridge is fantastic and always shockingly strong.
A wise someone I know has said the following, which relates sort of to the preceding:
“Build a bridge. Then get the fuck over it.”
And I really love that advice. I try a lot to get the fuck over things, you know. Festering and stewing is not comfortable, and it is largely unpretty.
I ask you, gentle readers who may be excellent bakers:
How do you make your biscuits flaky and light? How can I improve?
XO
mitda
