Disks of Doom

I nicknamed them Disks of Doom! Halloween themed.  Get it?!

I love to bake.  But lest you think I am some Northwest-flavored, Martha Stewart-Julia Childs amalgam in the kitchen, think again.  For today, dear readers, I attempted my first biscuits.

I bought the buttermilk.  I dug out a recipe in a cookbook one of my super sister-in-laws gave me.  It looked pretty simple.  Flour, sugar, butter, cinnamon, more butter.  I could get used to this!  I omitted the chocolate chips in the recipe because I wanted to make them more versatile.  I quickly realized the sugar and cinnamon were a coating for the top, so I left out those, too.

Then I looked at the recipe again.  Wait, no baking soda or baking powder?  How in the world would they rise?  The picture in the cookbook showed light, flaky biscuits, all golden brown and delectable.  You could practically smell them.  Hmm.  Maybe I didn’t know as much about baking as I thought I did.

I cut the 1/3 cup of butter into the 2 cups of flour.  Just as precaution, I added 3/4 tsp. of baking powder. Couldn’t hurt, right?  I mixed in the 3/4 c. of buttermilk.  Still kind of dry.  Added a bit more buttermilk after I added the rest of a stick of butter.  It’s the secret to life according to Gerard Depardieu:  Butter!

I dumped it out and rolled it on a floured surface. It seemed like something familiar. My sleep-deprived brain, pre-coffee, made no viable connections. I rolled on and cut out the biscuits.  The kids would be down any minute.  Hurry!  I dumped the round forms onto the cookie sheet and shoved them into the oven.  It was out of my hands then.

As I cleaned up and chatted with Ruby, I peeked through the glass oven door.  Nothing.  No rising.  They were getting brown, but staying as flat as a baked pancake.  Why?!

After the allotted time, I pulled them out. They smelled great.  They were delightfully golden.  But flat as a possum on I-5.

I gingerly sliced them and griped about it to Jonathon.  He looked over my shoulder at the recipe.

“Well, Sue”, he said, after I stopped asking questions of him, the biscuit master.  “It looks like a pie crust recipe, not a biscuit recipe.”

Bingo!  That’s exactly what it was, only substituting buttermilk for the ice water used to lubricate the dough.  So, today I served mini buttermilk pie crusts with butter, jelly and peanut butter.  They crunched and flaked in our mouth. Biscuits, for the record, should not crunch. If it walks like a duck…

“Granddad makes light, flaky biscuits – big ones!” exclaimed Ruby, as she chewed her way through my culinary mishap.

Thanks. Something to keep in mind the next time.

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