I was going to sit here and extol the virtues of the two-in-one nature of buttermilk biscuits. On their chameleon-like ability to morph between savory and sweet with the right backdrop. Serve with whipped cream (scented with vanilla or lavender to make this particularly lovely), berries, butter, honey, and jam - and you have a sweet breakfast, snack or even dessert. Serve with cheddar, deli meats/sausage/bacon,
mustard, butter, snipped chives, and
slices of radish and cucumber - and you have a savory breakfast, snack,
or dinner. Serve it with all of those, and you don't even have to choose
between savory and sweet - you get to have both! Dijon
But isn't this so self-explanatory that it isn't even necessary for me to remark upon it? I suppose it is. However, I can't stop myself - I feel particularly defensive about buttermilk biscuits.
I love them, oh how I love them. So buttery and pillowy. So wonderfully golden-brown on the outside and dreamy soft in the inside. And did I mention buttery? I love them plain and fuss-free. I love them with a pat of butter. I love them loaded with accoutrements - both the sweet and savory kind. My love for them is unconditional. Yet I feel a bit prickly and anxious near a mention of them.
Because I love them and their chameleon-like quality, I have served these for overnight guests. And while some have shared my enthusiasm and love, building up my confidence and hosting skills, and making me feel at ease, others have not. Others have brushed over the effort put into the serving of these treats and glossed over their inherent deliciousness, leaving me feeling exposed, vulnerable, and ashamed. And my cheeks burn with embarrassment as I remember those feelings of pride and happiness in sharing a beloved dish being blown into smithereens.
So now that I have acknowledged the source of my defensiveness, perhaps I can finally let it go. And return to the uncomplicated and simple joy that buttermilk biscuits necessitate. These are, after all, a two-in-one dish. Not a two plus heaping side of defensiveness and embarrassment dish. Two is plenty.