Biscuits and Gravy

A family tradition. When I was young, we went to my grandparent's house every Sunday morning for biscuits and gravy. As I got older we stopped going as often, then we stopped going altogether. I decided that if my grandma didn't want to make biscuits and gravy every Sunday, I should learn how to make them, and everyone could come to our house. So, I asked my grandma to teach me how to make them, and she agreed. I was so excited to learn from her and get the recipe!

As we were in the kitchen together getting ready to make biscuits and gravy, I asked her where the recipe was. To my surprise, she told me there wasn't a recipe; she just knew how to make them. At that point, I knew I had my work cut out for me. We got started on the biscuits. She put some shortening in a bowl and then added some flour. I asked her how much flour she added, and she told me she didn't know. She just knew what it supposed to look and feel like. I was beside myself. Then came the buttermilk, again, no measuring. Same with the sausage gravy; no measuring there either. Learning how to make biscuits and gravy proved to be no simple task.

We finished making breakfast together that morning, and the biscuits and gravy turned out to be delicious. I studied her every move in the kitchen that day, but I was nervous to try it myself. I was finally ready to try it myself, and my parents invited my grandparents over for biscuits and gravy. I had all my ingredients ready and got started. My grandparents arrived before breakfast was done and I remember my grandma asking me if I needed any help. I politely declined since I wanted to try to do it myself. The biscuits were in the oven and I was working on the sausage gravy. As I added the milk, little lumps were scattered throughout the gravy. I whisked and whisked to no avail; my gravy was lumpy. To add insult to injury, my biscuits were dry and crumbly.

Everyone ate my biscuits and gravy that morning, but I think they were just being nice. They really weren't very good. I had a long way to go before my biscuits and gravy would be like my grandma's. I didn't give up though, I was determined to make them right. The gravy technique came fairly easy, after a couple more tries, it was no longer lumpy and had good flavor. The biscuits, though, those posed more of a problem. Some were too dry, some were too dense, some fell apart, and some were just plain inedible. Then, one day, it all clicked.

Learning from all my past biscuit failures, I soon learned what the batter was supposed to look and feel like at each stage of the mixing process. My biscuits were consistently coming out of the oven light, fluffy, golden, brown and delicious. The only variation was how many biscuits each batch would make; sometimes 12, sometimes 14 or 16 or more! I had the technique down, and I was making biscuits like crazy. I was the first time I really understood what I was doing in the kitchen, not just blindly following a recipe. Learning how to make biscuits is really what developed my love of cooking.

I don't make biscuits and gravy every Sunday, but I do make them quite often throughout the year. Whenever we visit my dad in Louisville, I almost always make biscuits and gravy on Sunday morning before we leave. I also make them when they come to visit, too. It has become tradition for me to make them on Christmas morning for the in-laws. I've thought about writing down a recipe, measuring out the ingredients as I go, but I haven't done that yet; and honestly, I don't know if I want to. I'm just happy that I was able to keep the tradition alive.

Apple Pie - from Nonna

Printable Recipe

I don't remember how old I was, but I do remember a feeling of winning the lottery when Nonna handed me this card with her apple pie recipe lovingly handwritten on the front. I held in my hands the recipe for the best apple pie I ever ate. But, little did I know, merely having the recipe wasn't enough, executing the recipe properly was a whole different story.

Apple pie is not easy to make, at least for me it isn't. I remember Nonna's apple pies always turned out perfectly; tender, flaky crusts with the fork holes on top, apples at just the right consistency, and perfect little tapioca pearls scattered throughout. Delicious. Eating the pie was the essence of perfection. It was what instilled in me my love of pies.

Whenever I tried to make it, however, I always would do something wrong. I remember the first time I tried it, I overworked the dough, and it was neither tender nor flaky.  Along the way, I mastered the pie crust, but the tapioca caused me fits. I could never get them to cook all the way. The pearls would still be a little hard, and it took away from the enjoyment of the pie considerably. Tapioca pearls haunted my dreams. The flavor of Nonna's pie was there, but I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong with that darned tapioca.

A few months ago, my mom gave me a box of old recipes she found at Nonna's house. It was like a treasure chest of culinary gold. She told me of some of the recipes from her childhood, and they were all there for the most part. Other recipes from my childhood I recognized, too. I was so delighted to go through those recipes, anxiously rummaging through the box of goodies. I was like a kid on Halloween going through the candy bag at the end of a night of tireless trick-or-treating. As I was going through the box, I saw an old handwritten apple pie recipe. I looked at the recipe to see if there was anything different from the recipe Nonna wrote for me. The recipe was exactly the same, except for one ingredient. Instead of two tablespoons of small tapioca, this recipe called for 2 tablespoons of minute tapioca.

Minute tapioca! Maybe that was the answer! I resolved myself to wait until apples were in season to try this new ingredient. I literally thought about it all summer. Last week, I went to The Sunspot's farmers market to pick up some apples. On Thursday evening, I rushed home from work and got to work on the pie. It wasn't until Friday that we cut into the pie. The suspense was almost too much for me to handle as I made the first cut. As I served the first piece, I looked and the tapioca was completely cooked through. Success! The pie was very good! It still wasn't as perfect as the one's Nonna used to make, but it was definitely a step in the right direction. A couple more tries and I should have it down pat. Looks like I'll be going to the apple orchard this weekend. Hooray for pie!!

Biscuits anyone?

One of Ari's favorite things to help me make is biscuits because we really get our hands dirty. I enjoy making biscuits as well. Not only because I can get my hands dirty, but because it takes me back to my childhood.

When I was young, we would go to my grandparent's house every Sunday for biscuits and gravy. The smell of cooked bacon still takes me back to those times. To me, there was nothing better than biscuits and gravy for breakfast, especially my grandma's biscuits and gravy. I don't remember when or why we stopped going every Sunday, slowly we started going less and less.

When I was older, I remember asking my grandma to teach me how to make them and she agreed. I was thinking she would just give me a couple recipe cards and some helpful hints, but I was wrong. There were no recipe cards at all, the recipe was in her head, and the only was I was going to learn was to watch her and then do it myself.

The first few batches I made by myself were tough. I remember asking her how much flour to add to the biscuits or how much milk to add to the gravy. She responded just by showing me what it was supposed to look like and how it was supposed to feel. Those were pretty hard concepts for me to grasp as I have never cooked like that before.

After several failed attempts where my biscuits didn't rise or were too crumbly and my gravy was too thin or lumpy, I finally started to understand what needed to be done to get the results I wanted. I was so relieved the first time my biscuits came out light and fluffy. They were so delicious, and while they didn't taste exactly like grandma's, they were pretty darn close.

So now I can make biscuits or gravy without a second thought, it is almost like I have also known how to make them. It's so much fun making biscuits with Ari because I am able to show him the little tricks that I know and what to look for and how it should feel. It's a lot of responsibility making sure the boy knows how to make a good biscuit when he grows up.