Poor buttermilk biscuits. They used to be lovingly made in practically every kitchen across America. Buttermilk biscuits were the bragging equivalent of “My dad can beat up your dad,” except made about moms. Every house down the line boasted a better biscuit than the one before it.
These days, you’re going to have a hard time finding any such kindly matriarch who is willing to lovingly make a batch of homemade buttermilk biscuits. Even the most traditional of grandmothers has angrily encountered a frozen variety that immediately forced them to come to terms with the fact that mixing flour, baking powder, salt, butter and buttermilk really isn’t a function that requires human intuition, nor are the ingredients the sort that the “freshness” suffers when frozen.
There are countless bags and cans of “as good as my grandmother used to make” style buttermilk biscuits in every grocery store in every town. Trader Joe, Pillsbury, Betty Crocker, Walmart, Ingles, Publix, Kroger, they all have branded their names on a unique recipe, each of which tastes exactly like someone’s grandmother’s own.
Of course, every fried chicken restaurant and chain has their version of buttermilk biscuits as well, and to be quite honest, they all taste the same to me, every single one. Even the homemade ones I’ve had tasted the same to me as the ones that I had at Popeye’s Fried Chicken or the Cracker Barrel. Personally, I find the flakiness too dry in my mouth. That’s why every time I eat one, each half has a coat of butter and a coat of honey on it.
I’d be curious to know if my lack of fascination with buttermilk biscuits is normal or unique. If you have a moment, please let me know if you’re a fan of the things. I don’t hate them, obviously. I just don’t love them. Do people still love them?
See you Thursday for National Cherry Cobbler Day!