love me some biscuits

“Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.” ~ Carl Sandburg

Hello Friends and Hello 2021!

Nice to be back, and I must say, you’re even cuter than you were last year. How is that even possible? Maybe it was all those cookies you ate over the holidays. 😀

I was so happy to toss out 2020 and turn the page on a brand new Susan Branch calendar. Marking the days, weeks, and months with her charming art, quotes, photos, and recipes is how I like to roll. I think of her as a good luck charm; her optimism and positive energy really keep me going.

If January is any indication, we’re all in for a BIG year. Huge challenges, yes, but I’m hopeful that with our new President, Vice President, Democratic Congress and our collective faith in the power of BLUE — we’ll be able to heal, restore, build, and move forward for the good of all.

2021 will be one heck of a feast, and I’m anxious to dig in, so please pass the biscuits!

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via JaneCBaker
IN RHAPSODIC PRAISE OF BISCUITS
by Joan Leotta

Biscuits transubstantiate from
buttermilk or Lily brand flour and
Clabber Girl baking powder
into a heavenly delight.
So, it is only right that they
are the first item passed
after prandial prayer.
Plucking one from the basket
passed to me,
my fingers tingle as they brush
the lightly crisped top.
Slowly, I separate the still warm
bread of perfection
into two perfect halves,
tamping down the steam 
with a pat of real butter
and a swirl of honey.
I lift one section to mouth
and savor the
sweetness of the topping,
aided and abetted by the salty,
creamy butter amid the
biscuit crumbs.
Edible perfection.

~ from a broadside sponsored by Poetry in Plain Sight (Winston Salem, December 2019)

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linda baie: a lovingly baked memory

#12 in the Poetry Potluck Series, celebrating National Poetry Month 2012.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: You meet the nicest people through Poetry Friday.

I can’t remember exactly when Linda first joined “the gang,” only that she immediately felt like an old friend. At her lovely blog Teacher Dance, she not only shares a wealth of ideas and insights about teaching poetry and creative writing, but also many original poems and personal life reflections. Her warmth, caring and generosity have won over many blog readers, who, like me, appreciate her genuine interest in others and lifelong commitment to learning. One of the things Linda is doing for Poetry Month is continuing her project of creating poems which examine different ways of looking at children growing up, essentially saying goodbye to each precious stage. She plans to combine her series of poems with family photos and create a keepsake book for her grandchildren. Very cool!

Today I’m wearing my best bib, because Linda has brought biscuits! Some of you may know about my deep, abiding love for biscuits. Yes, I’ve dallied in the past with a few cupcakes, macarons, and pies. But there is just something about biscuits — small, round, gently risen in all their brown perfection, a piece of idyllic country life, a cozy Sunday morning family breakfast. Roll, pat, cut, a fine cloud of flour, particles of good memories that linger.

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friday feast: beaucoup biscuits

“Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.” ~ Carl Sandburg

via musicpb

Well, butter my buns and call me a biscuit!

Go on, grab one (a biscuit, not my buns, silly). You’re perfectly entitled — Autumn is officially here and September is National Biscuit Month. Not that I need any excuse to indulge my biscuit love. You know what I’m talking about. When they’re warm from the oven, you ever so gently break one apart and that little column of steam rises. Oh, tender, flaky bliss: a pat of butter on each half, melt, melt, maybe a drizzle of honey or a lick or two of jam. With each heavenly bite, the South rises again and again.

via mistersmed

I freely admit to never having successfully made biscuits from scratch. Yes, I’ve consumed my fair share of ‘whomp’ biscuits (Dough Boy goodness in a can), but I’ve always felt genuine-for-real homemade biscuits should be left to the experts. Most often, they are kind, huggable grandmas wearing faded flowery aprons who never measure ingredients but their biscuits turn out perfectly every time. Anyone have a Southern grandma I can borrow?  Continue reading