Biscuits

Biscuits

There are a few things in life that I consider are treasures of mankind.  They are works of art that no other can produce, and have a lineage to them that can't be matched by other objects.  These things include Beer, Samurai Swords, and Guitars.  There is another, though.  The humble biscuit is a unique thing that is as much you as your name is.  Just like in "The Name of the Wind" where your name is not just how its spelled, but how you accentuate it when you say it, how its formed when you speak it, and how its abbreviated when you shorten it, biscuits are a unique identifier specific to you.

Most people start learning biscuits one of two ways; someone teaches you or you find a recipe.  Biscuits are overwhelmingly simple.  So simple that when you start its easy to get something "wrong" and come out a lumpy mess.  Eventually though, you get the feel for it.  You will be able to tell when the same amount of liquid just did not feel right because the moisture in the air is high, and you need to add more flour, and many other variables.  You eventually toss the recipe away.  It is a hindrance after your 100th batch.  You make them by feel.  You might like a little more butter, you might add a little less salt, but the REAL differentiation is typically the flour to liquid ratio, and you gain your preference for that by how it feels when you shape your biscuits.  How much you handle them or even the technique of getting them from the bowl to the pan affects how they are on the inside.

I have many many aunts.  Each one that I have spent time with, I can identify by their biscuits.  Give me a table full of biscuits and I'll line them up by name.  From my Aunt Bobby's small biscuits that go great with tea, to my Grandmother's harder, chewier outside that stands up to spreading home made preserves, the biscuits and their uses are varied.  I bring up my grandmother's because her biscuits are gone.  I will never again get to experience them, and no long will anyone else.  Names live on, and memories remain, but biscuits are gone forever.  This one little fleeting moment in time you grace the world with something as unique as your name, and then, like your voice, can only be remembered.

Little bits of you are left though.  When you teach biscuit making a little bit of you goes into the new song that is the new biscuit of those that learn from you.  My mother currently is very proud of her new way of making biscuits.  She makes the biscuits I would have adored when I was young(and foolish).  They are the kind of perfect biscuits you get from restaurants.  There is one thing missing though; my grandmother.  When my mom makes home made biscuits in the way she used to, they remind me a little bit of my grandmother's biscuits.  My mother's version has a lighter texture, softer all around, more salt(in a good way), but they look like, especially on the inside, my grandmother's biscuits.  My other favorite biscuit is my Aunt Bobby's and even though they are smaller, and the outside is smooth like a washed river stone, the inside also is like my Grandmother's.  My Aunt Rosey on my other side of the family, she made great biscuits as well(and sadly they are gone now too).  Hers had a completely different inside texture to any of my mom's side of the family's biscuits, so it leads me to see my mom's mother in all the biscuits of her large extended family, just like when they smile I see my grandmother's cheeks and eyes in their cheeks and eyes.