After my last attempt at making Cuma’s biscuits went so horribly wrong, you might think I’d give up. But NO, I will not be deterred. Also, I have a lot of leftover lard to get rid of.
I took to heart all of the comments you left, and while visiting with my mother this weekend, she showed me the process that Cuma used so I thought I’d give it another try.
1. Put a bunch of flour in a bowl.
I love that Cuma didn’t measure the flour. Anything that saves me a step is good. Everyone seemed to agree that there was no need to use all-purpose flour, so this is the good old-fashioned self-rising kind.
2. Put an egg-sized lump of lard in the middle of the flour.
At Supper Club, my friend Forrest said he uses butter, but I wanted to try lard one last time since Cuma used it. Forrest also said that “dough knows its maker” which sounded kinda ominous. In an attempt to get on the right foot with my dough, I started talking to it. If it works for plants, maybe it would work for dough!
3. Cut the lard into the dough. Jean and DE said that I should use my hands, so that’s what I did. It actually seemed to work better than the fork and whisk. I don’t have any pictures because my hands were covered with flour and lard, but you’ll have to trust me.
Next I made a hole in the flour and poured in some buttermilk. I worked it with my hands, adding flour, adding milk, until I got a nice feeling lump of dough.
This is the point where I ran out of things to talk to the dough about and so I decided to pray while I kneaded. But my dog was whining and whining and whining, hoping that I’d drop something on the floor and my prayers were more of the “Good LORD, please give me PATIENCE. OMG!” variety. I took a deep breath and decided to think nice thoughts, like how maybe Cuma could see me in heaven and how happy she’d be knowing she was being thought about.
I got so distracted trying to be a nice person for my dough that I rolled it too thin, and when I cut out the biscuits they were like paper and they were RIPPING because I forgot to flour the wax paper and the whining was still happening and I finally lost it and yelled SHUT UP to my 112 year-old dog and I might have, just maybe, cussed Cuma and her flipping biscuits!
This is the only photo I have of the biscuits. After cooking them, they were eaten so fast I didn’t have time to get a shot. Have you SEEN how fast dogs can eat a biscuit? Crazy.
This dough not only knew me, it became me. These were some hard and sour biscuits! Next time, I’m going to forget about the lard and buttermilk. It’s going to be butter and whole milk for the next lot, AND no talking. I’m going to lock the dog outside and put on some easy-listening music, and the next batch of biscuits is going to be like me – the better me.
Fat and soft and flaky – sounds yummy to me!
(Cuma would sift the flour to get the odd pieces of lard out and dump it back into her larder, but I’m guessing she didn’t have a WalMart across the street like I do. I just threw it away.)