biscuits

Those who know me personally will probably tell you that I'm something of a hick. This is not anything I was ever consciously aware of before moving to California. I'm not from the deep south. I'm not from the regular south, I'm not even a yooper. I tell strangers I'm from Pittsburgh, even though I'm not, because it takes way less time than saying I'm from a quaint area thirty miles north of the city called Raccoon Township, located squarely in Beaver County where everybody talks like they're from Missouri and nobody knows how to read. I thank god every day that I got the hell out when I did and civilized myself before it was too late.

Again, I'm not really from an agricultural community, there's no reason any white person from my hometown should be using the word "y'all." Putting that fact aside for the moment, however, I think it's worth noting that, somehow, the practices and mores of southern living have permeated every aspect of the culture where I'm from; it wasn't unusual to see a John Deere blasting Keith Urban making its way down the highway I grew up next to in the early hours of the morning. To where? Nobody could ever tell me. I was only able to assume that it was being driven to a better place.

Anyway, all of that was my way of easing into today's topic of contention: biscuits. Unlike many bumpkins like myself, I never really inherited a family recipe. Now, I'm asserting myself as a woman and reclaiming my birthright by making my own, from a recipe I found online. A while ago. I'm actually kind of freaking out right now because it's four AM and I can't find the fucking recipe I used for these biscuits. It doesn't matter. The following measurements are guesses because I don't write any of this down.

two cups of corn flour

one half of a packet of instant yeast

three-quarters of a cup of warm water

two tablespoons of white sugar

one tablespoon of ground chia seeds

one-quarter of a cup of canola oil

one half of a teaspoon of baking soda

one teaspoon of salt

I think there's a way to emulate the chemical properties of buttermilk using coconut cream and vinegar, or maybe that's something you can only do with dairy. I don't know. I didn't try it.

One thing I'm super into right now: sifting flour. Never in my life was I aware of how useful this technique is, I always thought this was something city slickers did to show off and call attention to how much better they are than me. They're absolutely correct, because getting all of the lumps out not only makes for a much finer end product, it also photographs exceptionally well. You guys know how much I love getting my camera right into the mixing bowl.

Once you've combined everything into a dough, roll it out until it's about half of an inch thick and start punching out some biscuits with a wide-mouth mason jar. You could also use the top of a regular mason jar if you're on a diet, or making these for small children.

Here are the boys after rising for a good forty-five minutes; I actually followed the directions on the yeast packet for this round of bread-making, but all the while I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I should have let it soak in the sugar water like last time. Feel free to brush the tops gently with non-dairy milk, olive oil, or some combination thereof.

I'm not sure if it was the lack of gluten, but they didn't rise very much, nothing comparable to loft we achieved with the white bread last month. I think the corn flour may have gotten nervous and seized up. Whatever. Into the inferno they go. 350° for fifty minutes is what worked for me.

Here they are, fresh out of the oven, suave and handsome as hell. I have no idea how these turned out so pleasant-looking; clearly, I left much to be desired in terms of actually rolling them out - a few of them look like a cartoon pug compressed down to the size of a manhole lid. Maybe I should try to draw a picture of that today.

The truth? These little fuckers turned out hard as rocks, but that's exactly how I like 'em. That combined with the fact that they were all stamped out with the same jar makes them feel more factory-produced and store-bought than bread fluffy enough to fall asleep on. All of that fancy stuff, that's for movie stars. Me, myself, I'm living right here, in the real world.

Obviously, this is objectively the best way to enjoy all biscuits, these ones certainly being no exception. Nuking them for thirty seconds and then toasting them off for a few minutes after will soften them a bit, and any spread applied to the crumb will only contribute to this. The denseness of the corn flour actually makes for a surprisingly satiating breakfast, if you're somebody who is ideologically comfortable calling a jam-covered piece of bread and a cup of coffee a full meal appropriate for an adult human. If any biscuits are up for the task of keeping you full until the first whispers of lunchtime in the afternoon, it's these ones.

Any person who is actually from the south can look at these photos and tell you exactly how disappointed my parents are about the way I turned out. I concede, but rest assured that this endeavor was not for naught. These biscuits will feed my belly for many meals, and will prove to be a valuable source of precious gluten-free breadcrumbs in the coming winter months. In that way, I like to think that it was all worth it.

If you're going to freeze them for another time, I suggest going the extra mile and pre-slicing them before putting them away. This is partly for convenience, and partly because I feared that after being frozen for too long, they would be too hard and stale to get a knife through. I'm not a gamblin' type of woman. Better safe than sorry.