Biscuit. I can’t really think of a more confusing food word. I mean really. Think of it. A biscuit. What comes to mind? Depends on where you’re from it seems.
If you are a Brit, then a biscuit is a cookie. Any kind of cookie. Like a digestive, that wheaty, crumbly sort that comes wrapped in a cellophane tube, or the kind that’s a jam-filled sandwich treat or even a chocolate studded delight. If you’re Italian, then biscuit means biscotti, a twice-baked treat best eaten when dunked in a hot coffee drink. If you are a dog, the big, fluffy golden retriever kind like the one who lives in our house, a biscuit can mean a dog-type cookie, a dog-type meat stick, or a treat of any kind.
If you are person who lives on the East Coast of this fine country, you might likely mean a drop biscuit, made from a sticky batter gathered quickly in a bowl, then dropped onto a cookie sheet. This batter emerges from the oven with a craggy, crunchy outside, a soft, puffy inside. If you’re from the South, a biscuit would be the kind made in a hot iron frying pan, first coated with a swipe of bacon drippings then filled with eight or ten small doughy disks. These disks transform in the heat, and spring up into light-as-air little cakes, to be split and filled with eggs, ham, even butter and jam. Southern fluffy biscuits are best, in my opinion, as the vehicle for the most totally fattening breakfast ever - biscuits and gravy.
The word can be used as an obscenity swap-out, too, not unlike “fudge” for, well, you know, or “I don’t give a fig” for the same word only more threatening in this form. If you’re a person who like to substitute words when cussing, try “son of a biscuit” on for size. My prep cook does daily, and I laugh every time.
The biscuit I’m coveting today is a combination of the two. I love to make a quick dough from cold butter, cold milk or buttermilk, a pinch of salt and a pinch of sugar, like I saw my mother and her mother make so many times before dinner. In Canada, and Massachusetts, the biscuit is a necessary accompaniment to savory stews, boiled dinners and especially soups. A hot-out-of-the-oven biscuit slathered in butter, then used as a mop to sop up gravy, juices, or the last of something good is what I’m after. So this is what I made this weekend. Soup and a biscuit. My mother used a round cookie cutter to stamp out the circles, once she patted out the dough on the floured Formica counter top. She showed my how to dip the cutter in a little bowl of flour, and starting at the very edge, to twist quickly, re-flouring each time. She showed me how important it was to cut the circles close together, so the dough only needed to be rolled out once. This ensured a tender biscuit.
My grandma Dot, who was so comfortable and almost casual with biscuit dough, simply patted out a square (easier to shape, she said with a slight smile) and used a floured butter knife to cut out squares. Not so precise, but more rustic looking. Dot always said other people’s biscuits had problems because of two reasons. One, they weren’t “short enough”. This I didn’t want to ask her about, because I wanted her to think I was a great baker like her. This, I thought, was something I should just know. So I did the only sensible thing there was to do. I asked my mother in secret. Turns out “short” meant the amount of shortening or butter in dough. It was a pastry term. The second reason Dot gave for an inferior biscuit, is “people just manhandle them”. Meaning, over handle the dough, like a man. A true fact, I thought at the time. The men in our family manhandled lots of things, like tree trunks that needed to come out to make room for the boat in the driveway at the cottage, raw clams, lobsters, big bags of charcoal briquettes and thick, meaty steaks. I determined then, that it was good to be a girl. Girls do not manhandle dough, I decided. I think I was around eight at the time.
Biscuits are the perfect thing for when you want something homemade, fresh out of the oven, with very little effort involved at all. And the best part? You can add things to biscuit dough. Like what, you ask? Shredded cheese. Toasted seeds. Cracked black pepper. Fresh chopped herbs. Minced caramelized onions or shallots. Roasted garlic. Anything you have on hand you can add to a biscuit dough. Just make sure whatever it is, it’s on the dry side. Adding a softer cheese like, say, goat cheese, might make the batter more moist, so then you’d have to use less milk. Get it?
This weekend there was a chunk of Heritage Ham in the fridge. Also there happened to be the rest of some potatoes I made with caramelized onions, shallots, wine and two cheeses – Emmenthaler and Gruyere. These were leftover from Easter dinner, and sounded like the start of a yummy soup, no? Well, I agree. And nothing goes with a bowl of homemade soup better than a biscuit.
These babies are great with butter hot out of the oven, with butter and jam hot out of the oven or plain hot out of the oven. If you still have some the next morning, which I seriously doubt you will, I suggest splitting and toasting them, then slathering the tops with butter and jam. I just have to warn you. Don’t eat these biscuits in the car on your morning commute. There will be several crumbs.
To shape these biscuits, I follow the recipe just as it’s written, bringing the dough together very quickly and lightly, then pat out into a square like my grandma Dot. Using a floured butter knife, cut in half lengthwise, then cut into eight rectangles, dividing evenly from the middle.
Here is the trick part to get that ridged folded-over look: you fold the rectangle almost in half, like a little blanket. Then you pat just a bit to keep the dough folded. And that’s it. Nothing is brushed on top. There is no rolling, cutting, then rerolling. Just send these eight little guys into a very hot oven. As you hover they will puff, turn a little bit brown on top, and end up just this side of done. If you like a crunchier, browner biscuit then by all means leave them in the oven a minute or two more. You will love these. Remember, handle the dough as little as possible to make a light, tender biscuit. Don’t manhandle it! Make them soon and let me know what you think!
Mom’s Sunday Biscuits (makes eight)
(I got the recipe from my baker who worked at a cooking school in Seattle.)
2 cups flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
dash kosher salt
1 tablespoon sugar
6 tablespoon shortening (I use Spectrum, which is organic and free of trans fats)
1 egg
about 2/3 cup milk (tonight I used 1/2 cup non fat, the rest shaken buttermilk)
Preheat the oven to 475 degrees. Lay a sheet of parchment paper on a cookie sheet or spray the sheet with cooking spray.
Sift the dry ingredients in a bowl. Cut in the shortening with two butter knives. Add the egg to the milk in a glass measuring cup and beat with a fork. Add to the dry ingredients and quickly bring together with a fork. The dough will be quite wet and sticky. Sprinkle flour on the counter or board you’re using for this project. Flour your hands, and scrape the dough from the bowl. Give the dough a very quick turn or two (meaning knead it, but very, very gently). Pat out into a square about 1/2 an inch thick. Cut in half lengthwise with a floured knife, then cut into eight rectangles. Gently fold each rectangle into a square and pat lightly. Place a few inches apart on the cookie sheet. Bake for 10 minutes or a bit longer for a crunchier, darker biscuit.
I have to tell you three were gone within minutes of taking the first batch out of the oven. You try to keep them intact until dinner. It’s not gonna happen.
April 21, 2009 at 4:08 am
your post just came up in my ‘readomattic’ and as soon as i saw the picture of those biscuits, i had to read on. it was a great story and i cannot wait to make these! they look de-li-cious!
April 23, 2009 at 7:55 pm
My mom always seems so comfortable making biscuits. I love them with chicken pot pie filling the best, but she always made them for stew.
April 25, 2009 at 8:08 pm
Grandma always called them biscuits, and insisted that nothing was better that pure fresh butter – never shortening. Depending on the occasion she would leave them plain, or add raisins or even grated old cheddar, if she was serving them with one of her fabulous homemade soups! Now, many here in this part of Canada,refer to these delectable “homey” treasures as scones, and anything can be added – dried cranberries, orange, chocolate – what have you! Nevertheless – whatever they are called, taste like “home”.