Picture this in your mind if you will, a young, new bride and her first meal. I was so proud of myself. I had golden fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and string beans, plus the prettiest plate of homemade, cathead, buttermilk biscuits you'd ever seen.
I had spent that afternoon on the phone with my Maw-maw, getting the recipe for the buttermilk biscuits. I should have known something was wrong when I removed them from the pan, and they felt heavy, but I was just so happy, they looked like Maw-maw's biscuits.
My husband came in and his eyes lit up with delight, when he saw his supper waiting on him. He complimented me on how good everything looked, then filled his plate. He grabbed a biscuit and tried to tear it in half. He couldn't, they were as hard as rocks.
I had used too much flour on the outside and made them hard.
I have to give him credit though, he didn't say a word just set the biscuit back by his plate and finished eating the rest of the meal.
Now after the meal, he helped me clean the kitchen, and threw the scraps out the back door to the dogs. One biscuit knocked the bark off a tree. One of the dogs grabbed another one, and bit down. The next thing we heard was him howling in pain.
The next day I called my Maw-maw in tears and told her what had happened. She told me not to worry about it, it just took a little practice. She told me to remember to keep my hands lightly floured and they would come out fluffy and perfect.
Well, a couple of weeks later my husband was looking out the back door when he turned to me and said, "Honey, I'm going to have to get something for the gophers. Would you look at all the holes they have dug in the back yard."
With a look of horror,I busted out crying and ran to my room throwing myself across the bed.
"Baby, what's wrong?" concerned etched across his face as he took me in his arms.
I explained between sobs, "Those are not gopher holes, they are holes I buried my biscuits in."
I had cooked biscuits everyday and if they had turned out right I served them to my husband, but if they had turned out like my first batch, I had taken them outside and buried them, before my husband came home each evening.
Now, I can say after thirty years of making fresh buttermilk biscuits, that they taste and look every bit as good as the ones my Maw-maw makes. But one word of advice, if you plan on burying your mistakes make sure the holes are far enough away from the back door, so your husband won't come home with something to kill the gophers.
Let me give you the recipe for them, but you have to supply the practice sessions.
two cups self-rising flour
one teaspoon of sugar
one-half teaspoon of baking soda
one-third cup of shortening
one-half cup buttermilk
one-half stick of margarine or butter, melted
Preheat oven to 450 degrees. In large bowl mix flour, sugar and baking soda. Cut in shortening, and mix until flour resembles a coarse meal. Add the buttermilk and stir with a fork, just until you can make a large ball out of the dough.
Keeping hands lightly floured, pinch off dough, making a ball that fits the palm of your hand. Place in lightly greased pan.
Brush melted butter over top of biscuits and place into oven. Bake for twelve minutes or until golden brown.
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That is a sweet story. Alot like my own cooking experiences. :) Thanks for writing it. I think you and I have the same writing style especially with the use of comas to make and seperate a point.
Keep Writing this is a good story and well told and written.
Angela Posey Arnold