Waiting on some bread to rise in the kitchen. The anticipation of slicing into a warm loaf of home baked bread is a dangerous thing for me. Lest anyone think this is a common occurrence, let me set the record straight. Perhaps the title of this blog and the first line of the first post would make one think I am "really into" baking. Let's just say it is relative.
Its a typical fall day here in North Carolina when everything the trash man left behind has made its way up into my front lawn. Most of the trees are shedding every last stitch of clothing they were wearing. Its this kind of day I find myself longing for the comfort foods of my past. Having a true Southern background, I find myself taking a sentimental journey into the past. Homemade vegetable soup with fresh veggies straight from my daddy's garden, fried chicken, stewed potatos, homemade biscuits and the country fare my mom placed before us each evening has long been replaced with ....
The healthy and diet friendly baked chicken breast or maybe a Smart One with a side of salad greens or a bowl of black bean and corn soup loaded with fiber. Dont get me wrong! I love healthy foods but some days its not safe for me to be in the kitchen. When I start going through the cabinets to find a way to make something that will fill that "comfort zone", or go to the local Food Lion without the benefit of makeup or a shampoo, I know I'm going to that place!
I gave this blog the title "Southern Baby Biscuits" because it is my favorite -in the kitchen- memory of my maternal grandmother. Usually on Thanksgiving, she would set aside some of her biscuit dough and allow us to roll up our very own "baby biscuit" about a centimeter in diameter. We were so excited to pop these bite size morsels into our mouths as the adults grabbed for the largest one on the plate. Memories of mamaw's hands all covered with the ooshy, gooshy mixture of buttermilk, lard and flour inspired me in my younger years to do it the old fashioned way. In my 20's and 30's I often made homemade biscuits for dinner. On days like this, I suppose there is something that draws me back to those familiar homey touches the women in my family added.
I've tried my hand at homemade loaf bread, Friendship bread, even made some bread baskets from bread dough 25 years ago for Christmas presents. It's not an everyday thing for me now, but on a day like today.... something calls me back to that kitchen on Charles Street. I see my grandmother wearing her smock with flour up to her elbows and I just have to plunder around in my cabinets until I find a way to bring back the feeling of being a Southern girl at heart.
Gotta go! The timer just went off... my dough needs punching. My veggie soup needs stirring... Thanks for the memories Mamaw. And thanks for helping me realize that love comes in all sizes. I never remember you talking about how many calories were in those baby biscuits. That would have spoiled the whole thing!
Hi Robin! Sweet blog. And touching first post. It made me yearn for all that, too. I still find the need to bake a lot - even though my food restrictions don't allow it - but my neighbors like me...A LOT! And there were no calories when we were kids. That was the coolest thing.
ReplyDeleteRobin...Just love your new blog and I confess it brought tears to my eyes as I saw myself as a little girl in my mother's kitchen and her making biscuits in her big wooden biscuit bowl. I also tried making them, like her, when I was in my twenties. They were so far from hers that I never attempted them again. She used to bake the "cut-outs" for us and,oh, what a treat! Our hearts are so much alike and, entwined by Jesus as they are, I felt all YOUR emotions as if they were my own. What a beautiful gift of writing the Lord has given you! Thanks for sharing it with all of us who will take the time to slow down long enough to "go to that place" of comfort and joy of long ago. This is why I enjoy cooking as I do...just doing it is healing.
ReplyDeleteLove you!