all because I wanted biscuits

Thursdays around these parts are for leftovers. Somewhere around the second or third week of marriage, when we were both working, I realized that I dreaded cooking more the later it was in the week. And so Leftover Thursday was born.

But on some Thursdays, the leftovers just don't cut it for me. Like this past week, when I really wanted to sit down with a hot biscuit and some strawberry jam, maybe a piece of leftover ham, and let that be my dinner. That's all I wanted. That's all I really, really wanted. So I set out to make some.

I got out my White Lily flour, because according to Nanny the Great Biscuit-Maker, there is no other brand when it comes to making biscuits. The recipe is on the bag. Just a few ingredients. Short. Sweet. Simple.

Let it be known, from here on out, that making biscuits is NOT simple. I like to consider myself a good cook, but these were a big fat FAIL. I no longer feel entitled to make fun of Mir for her attempt at biscuits, which were later shellacked and turned into Christmas ornaments for the family to laugh at year after year after year. I'm sorry, Mir. You didn't stand a chance.


I didn't take a picture, because I was too sad. But they were neither light nor fluffy, like the recipe title suggested. They were crunchy. And dry. And flat. If the distance wasn't so great between us, I would have driven to Bojangles to eat my weight in their biscuits. Which are truly light and fluffy. But alas, I did not.

The good news is, Nanny is coming to visit in a few weeks and we're going to make biscuits. And I'm going to make batch after batch, with her standing right there, until they're perfect. She says they're a "cinch" but I think she's lying to me. Nannies like to hold all of the biscuit power, so you have to come visit them. And then you beg for them to make biscuits and gravy and it makes them feel all good inside. A cinch, my left foot.

My OTHER Nanny, Nanny the Great Sugar Cookie Maker, said the same thing about her coveted Christmas sugar cookies. The cookies that my mom hides in the crawl space under the stairs to keep her husband and offspring from eating them all. [She's selfless, but not with those cookies or the honey from my dad's bees. She'll cut you over those two things.] So do you see the pattern? The Nannies who are all, "Oh, sweetie! All you have to do is this and this and this and then you'll have the most beautiful biscuits/cookies the world has ever seen!" And you're like, "NO, Nanny. You must have written the recipe wrong because my biscuits were crunchy and my sugar cookies looked like peanut brittle. And not in a good way."

Oh, but it's a cinch! Yeah? Well, here's what I have to say to that: