I’ve mentioned before I have a mild affection towards biscuits. When I made biscuits a while ago, I tried to figure out why. Maybe you have lovely images of your grandma in the kitchen on a Saturday morning rolling and cutting biscuits, flour dusting her floral apron… My image is slightly different, possibly even frightening.
We used to eat Biscuits and Gravy fairly frequently growing up. I know, this meal is extremely terrible for you, but it’s what we did. You could call it a tradition. (My grandpa also used to feed us popcorn and milk which I’ll try to explain another time). We didn’t have home made biscuits, and if we did, we didn’t have them often enough for me to remember. We had biscuits in those scary peel and pop cans. They scared you too. Don’t deny it. Just the thought of peeling back one of those corners made my blood pressure rise. I was actually thankful those times the “pop” didn’t happen and you had to smack the can on the corner of the countertop to open it.
I can’t remember the last time I had biscuits and gravy. I can’t bring myself to eat them anymore because all I can think about is the gravy slowly clogging my arteries. For now, I’ll take my biscuits with Honey or Apple Butter. yum.
I’m going to try and be that grandma someday….