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, Dijon 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!
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.
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