Saturday, December 27, 2014
Dad's Biscuit Story
WARNING: No bourbon content.
When I was 11 or 12, my dad came into the room where my younger brother and I were watching television, and told us to join him in the kitchen. This was odd, but we did as requested and he told us this story.
"In May of 1936, Mom, Tom and I moved in together. We did okay financially because Tom was out of high school and working. With both of them working, I wound up doing most of the housework.
"One day Mom said that she wanted to talk. I was concerned that she was going to go into the birds and bees bit because she seemed serious and somewhat reluctant to begin.
"She told me a story that when her older sister, Gen, was born her father came to the realization that there was no one to bake his biscuits for breakfast. For him to not have hot, fresh biscuits for breakfast was unthinkable. After Grandma got on her feet again he had her teach him how to bake biscuits, which he then did whenever she was not able and even at other times when it was convenient.
"As their children were growing up Grandma, naturally, taught the girls the necessary skills, including biscuit baking. Grandpa saw to it that his sons could bake biscuits and made all of his children promise him that if they had any sons, they would make sure that the sons learned the art. Mom remembered her promise and said that it was time that I learned so she taught me.
"I not only enjoyed hot, fresh biscuits but I even enjoyed making them and it wound up that from then on I was the official biscuit baker in the household. I might add that this was well before Bisquick and long, long before biscuit dough in a tube."
At which point, dad taught Jim and me how to make biscuits, from scratch, not using Bisquick or dough in a tube as was already the norm in our household. He then imposed the promise on us. Since Jim died without issue and I likely will as well, the biscuit-making heritage of the Tucker-Cowdery family ends with me.
Just as well, since I don't know where to get lard.