eat at joe's

If you’re going to live in the South, like I do, then making biscuits is pretty much a requirement.  I mean, the folks around here are serious about their biscuits, and it seems like there are places like this (don’t miss the videos of Miss Carol Fay!) pretty much on every corner.

I’m convinced that biscuit-making is an inherited trait; I think there may even be a biscuit-making gene sequence somewhere in our DNA.   I grew up making biscuits with my mother.  She was a classically trained Southern cook.  By that I mean she had no formal training.  In the days long before Food Network, she learned as a child by watching and helping whoever was cooking for the family, in her case, usually her aunts.  Everything was a pinch of this and a handful of that; she mostly cooked from memory and what few recipes she did use (lemon icebox pie!) were lovingly handwritten on stained 3 by 5 cards (don’t I wish I had them today…)  So I learned from her the same way she learned, by watching and eventually doing.  Over time, I managed to acquire the biscuit gene.

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