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Quote by T.J. Bowes

“Biscuits, biscuits: wherefore art thou biscuits? Hath mine beloved hidden thou once more from mine eyes? Alas, mine coffee cries out. Lo!”

Quote by T.J. Bowes

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T.J. Bowes

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“Rosy’s mummy hands Franny a clear plastic bag full of reject biscuits, then Rosy holds her cheek out for Franny’s wet kiss. Rosy wipes the slime from her face and Franny cackles, then shows them both into the lounge. There on Franny’s coffee table is a biscuit tin with a Christmas picture on the lid. Proper shop-bought biscuits, not factory rejects. “Please, may I have a biscuit?” Rosy says. “Oh, there are no biscuits in that my darling,” Franny says, and pulls the tin from Rosy’s prying fingers. Franny holds open the bag of crumb-speckled chocolate digestives. “Help yourself, my wee hen.” Rosy settles for a reject. Franny puts the Christmas tin up high, way up high, way out of reach.”

FriendshipMysteryGrandmotherTinBiscuits
Book:Screw Friendship
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“Language, Sweet," said Magnus's mother, arriving with a plate full of homemade biscuits. She didn't scold him too harshly about his talk these days. Magnus suspected this was because Mama shared Uncle Sweet's opinion about the Nazis. Yet despite the shortages and rationing, she had managed to turn out the most delicious biscuits Magnus had ever tasted. They were redolent of butter, which Mrs. Gundersen up the hill traded for apples from the family orchard. Uncle Sweet made a great show of fanning himself and swooning as he ate a biscuit. "Language," he said, "is nothing but a bunch of words, and there are no words to express how wonderful this cookie is. I swear, if you were not already married, I would have you locked in a workroom like Rumpelstiltskin's daughter, forced to bake for me all day." He stole another biscuit from the platter and headed for the basement, lighting his way with an oil lamp. No one ever asked where his photographic chemicals came from- no one wanted to hold the answer like a piece of stolen fruit.”

BiscuitsRationing1940Magnus JohansenUncle Sweet
Book:The Apple Orchard
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“Used to be when a bird flew into a window, Milly and Twiss got a visit. Milly would put a kettle on and set out whatever culinary adventure she'd gone on that day. For morning arrivals, she offered her famous vanilla drop biscuits and raspberry jam. Twiss would get the medicine bag from the hall closet and sterilize the tools she needed, depending on the seriousness of the injury. A wounded limb was one thing. A wounded crop was another. People used to come from as far away as Reedsburg and Wilton. Milly would sit with them while Twiss patched up the 'poor old robin' or the 'sweet little meadowlark.' Over the years, the number of visitors had dwindled. Now that the grocery store sold ready-bake biscuits and jelly in all the colors of the rainbow, people didn't bother as much about birds.”

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Book:The Bird Sisters
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“Well, I was up bright and early, and while everybody else went to church or whatever they do on Sunday morning, I was chopping turkey and ham and mushrooms for the casserole and mixing chopped pickled peaches and pecans with cream cheese for the salad that had to congeal in the fridge at least two hours. I also decided to go ahead and mix all the dry ingredients and shortening for the biscuits so all I'd have to do would be to add buttermilk at the last minute, cut 'em out, and bake 'em. That left only the cheese grits, which I knew could be boiled in advance, then mixed with butter and sour cream and eggs and cheddar and a little garlic and seasonings, scraped into a big baking dish, and stuck in the oven with the casserole to get nice and golden by the time everybody arrived.”

IngredientsSaladBiscuitsSouthern CookingGritsCasserole
Book:Hungry for Happiness
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