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!