Biscuit

Mama made these often when we were growing up. After I attended culinary school, I admittedly became quite snobby about using store-bought ingredients in recipes. I wanted to make the mayonnaise, not buy it. This type of recipe seemed one short step above a baking mix. Now a little older and wiser, I appreciate it for what it is. I understand Mama was putting freshly baked bread on the family table, and that was really important. I now ask for them when I go home to visit and enjoy every sweet bite.

Angel biscuits are lighter than traditional buttermilk biscuits because they contain yeast as well as the usual baking powder, baking soda, or both. The yeast gives them an extra push as well as another layer of flavor. Traditional biscuits can be intimidating to novice bakers, especially if first efforts yielded rock-hard results, not light and tender biscuits. The trio of leaveners protects even the worst of bakers from abject failure. This dough is also appealing because it can be prepared ahead of time and held in the refrigerator for three to five days (baking powder and baking soda alone would have long lost their “oomph”). This holding power lets you pinch off a bit of dough at a time to make a few fresh biscuits during the week. It’s also a heck of a lot better than the preservative- and chemical-laden tubes of refrigerated biscuit dough.

Meme most often made rolled biscuits. For large biscuits, she had a special aluminum cutter with a small wooden handle that fit in the palm of her hand. She cut out small biscuits with an empty apple juice can open at both ends. Some purists use lard instead of butter. Although I like biscuits made with lard and understand the tradition and history, Meme and Mama had started using butter by the time I was born. The perfect biscuit should be golden brown and slightly crisp on the outside, with a light, airy interior. For a flaky, tender biscuit, don’t overwork the dough: gently combine the ingredients until just blended. A very hot oven is essential. The steam interacts with the baking powder to create the biscuit’s ideal textures inside and out.

These diminutive tea biscuits are a wonderful little treat. My son Lennon, upon tasting them, told me he’d like to take them with him to heaven. Really, he said that. Just a little word of caution: these puppies are hot, so wait until they’ve cooled a bit to eat them, or the orange marmalade will scorch the roof of your mouth.

Nutty golden flax adds omega-3s, lignans, and fiber to these savory biscuits, perfect with any meal. Have them for breakfast with vegan butter and jam, pair them up with soup for lunch, or pass them in the bread basket at dinner.

These biscuits are amazing served warm straight out of the oven. Eat them savory or sweet.

These little biscuits pair especially well with mild-flavored soups featuring cauliflower or broccoli, but they are compatible with most any kind of vegetable soup.

By fifth grade, I’d taken to pocketing my lunch money and starving through the day so I could afford to spend the afternoons in the air-conditioned luxury of the local KFC and postpone the sweltering walk home. I’d buy a biscuit, fashion a “free” lemonade (1 cup ice water, 2 packets lemon juice, 27 or so sugar packets), swing my Capezios up onto the banquette of a comfy booth, and bask in my own genius. I don’t know that the eventual walk was any better, but I do know I started a trend among other ponytailed rebels. With the biscuit bar set pretty high and KFC no longer an option or a preference, I assigned myself the challenge of bettering it with my allergy-friendly pantry. It’s not uncommon these days for people to taste the biscuits at BabyCakes NYC and say, “These are better than KFC!”—and when they do, I execute a victory pirouette and shotgun a frosty glass of agave lemonade (page 133).

Pat: Momma Daisy served these biscuits every Sunday with homemade preserves, scrambled eggs, and bacon. There would also be sorghum molasses, for drizzling over the warm buttered biscuits, whenever she could get some from her uncles in the country. Momma Daisy made everything from scratch back in those days, because it was the most economical way, there weren’t a lot of prepared mixes, and that’s simply how things were done. These biscuits were always mixed by hand, and my mother, Lorine, remembers seeing Momma Daisy work and work and work that dough with her very capable fingers. Some biscuit recipes scare you away from overmixing the dough, but in this recipe that’s how the flaky layers are created. Momma Daisy always used lard for these biscuits, but these days my momma uses a combination of butter and vegetable shortening—feel free to use either. The latter is better for you, but the former creates the fluffiest biscuits around.

Being a kid from South Carolina, I always had fresh biscuits growing up. This recipe is as close to my grandmother’s as I could get without having a spiritual adviser. They’re big, fat, and light as a cloud, just like I remember them. The peach and rosemary spoon fruit adds a little contemporary twist.

These skillet-fried biscuits are a little sturdier than many other biscuits in order to hold the fresh berries intact. The butter bumps up the flavor as well. When they are fried, they remind me of the blueberries we picked early one morning as Girl Scouts and made into pancakes—a culinary highlight of my childhood. But they are very special baked as well. Either way, they’re a winner.

The method of making biscuits in a traditional wooden bowl, without a recipe, was traditionally practiced by home cooks all over the South. A sack of flour was emptied into the bowl, a well was made in the flour, and then the number of biscuits desired was miraculously shaped by the additon of fat and liquid. The remaining flour mixture was then sifted and returned to the bowl, covered with a tea towl or flour sack, or to the sack itself until the biscuits were made again later in the day. Alas, this process is so intimidating to novice cooks, until they get the "feel," that I have to caution the novice to try another recipe first. Please come back and try these after practicing with easier versions, because this version makes biscuits the way they are supposed to be—meltingly light, tantalizingly tender, flaky, moist—and unforgettable. I have never had a better biscuit than Kate's.

This is a very old recipe found in many books, including the 1964 edition of Joy of Cooking. It is a snap to make, uncomplicated with few ingredients, yet producing a stunningly tender and fluffy biscuit. There are two Rachels in our lives—my husband’s granddaughter, Rachel Bass, and co-author Cynthia’s daughter, Rachel Graubart. Novices, we asked them to test recipes we hope will be easy for anyone. Both gave these flying colors for both ease and taste. Here's what Gena Berry said about her similar adaptation of this recipe: A respectable homemade biscuit is an essential part of the Southern table, and this scandalously simple recipe makes turning out the perfect biscuit a snap. This recipe breaks all the rules of southern biscuit-making; there’s no shortening to cut in, and you don't even roll out the dough. The results are remarkable and even a novice can turn out fluffy, perfect biscuits in minutes. Would a respectable Southern lady bend the rules, defy convention and use sneaky shortcuts all in the name of turning out a hot, homemade biscuit? You better believe it!

When I was a little girl, making biscuits was one of my favorite things to do because they were so easy and so delicious. Not until I began my experiments with gluten-free baking did I realize the gift my mother and grandmother had passed on to me in the process: They taught me that in order in making the very best biscuits, it was all about the touch. The less you touched the dough, the better the biscuits. If you over-kneaded the dough, the biscuits would be much drier and would turn to stone twice as fast. So as you are kneading your dough, remember less is more, and you will have those moist, mouthwatering biscuits you've been dreaming about. Any of the suggested accompaniments you choose will sing atop this Southern classic.

They're flakier and lighter than your usual biscuits because we've replaced some of the butter with the carotenoid-filled root vegetable. Stash any extras for a hearty Black Friday breakfast.

I believe the secret to my grandmother Grace's biscuits is that she would talk to them, saying, "Rise, Mr. Biscuit, rise!" And they would. Her buttermilk biscuits were quite similar to these, made with whole milk, but sometimes she'd substitute buttermilk and use baking soda instead of baking powder. I find that biscuits made with European-style high-fat butter have less water and therefore taste and look a lot better. After you have made the dough, carefully pat it down with your hands and fold it over two or three times; it's the layers that make biscuits so flaky. Let the dough rest for half an hour or so, roll it out to the thickness you like, then cut it into circles and bake it.

Many teething biscuits crumble and break too easily. These are a little sturdier and safer for baby to eat.

Cheesy with a shortbread-like texture, these biscuits are addictive and would pair nicely with beer.

There's no doubt these are some seriously cheesy biscuits, but dill adds a dose of herbal brightness, making them the ideal partner for grits with rosemary bacon (page 61) and fried eggs.

The easiest way to crack the coriander seeds is to put them in a heavy-duty plastic bag and pass over them with a rolling pin. For a great sandwich, split a biscuit and fill it with sliced ham or smoked salmon.

I remember exactly when I first encountered these celestial biscuits. It was in the early 1970s as I prowled the South in search of great grassroots cooks to feature in a new series I was writing for Family Circle magazine. Through country home demonstration agents, I obtained the names of local women who'd won prizes at the county and state fairs. I then interviewed two or three of them in each area before choosing my subject. And all, it seemed, couldn't stop talking about "this fantastic new biscuit recipe" that was all the rage—something called Angel Biscuits. The local cookbooks I perused also featured Angel Biscuits, often two or three versions of them in a single volume. Later, when I began researching my American Century Cookbook, I vowed to learn the origin of these feathery biscuits. My friend Jeanne Voltz, for years the Women's Day food editor, thought that Angel Biscuits descended from an old Alabama recipe called Riz Biscuits, which she remembered from her childhood. Helen Moore, a freelance food columnist living near Charlotte, North Carolina, told me that a home economics professor of hers at Winthrop College in South Carolina had given her the Angel Biscuits recipe back in the 1950s. "I remember her saying, 'I've got a wonderful new biscuit recipe. It's got yeast in it.'" Others I've queried insist that Angel Biscuits were created at one of the fine southern flour millers; some say at White Lily, others at Martha White (and both are old Nashville companies). In addition to the soft flour used to make them, Angel Biscuits owe their airiness to three leavenings: yeast, baking powder, and baking soda. Small wonder they're also called "bride's biscuits." They are virtually foolproof.

The trees of Hansel and Gretel's forest surely had bark like this, sparkling with sugar crystals and tasting of sylvan honey. Though the biscuits pair wonderfully with blueberries in gin syrup, they also make an excellent accompaniment to a cheese course—particularly with a nice triple-crème.

These wine-infused, ring-shaped biscuits, called taralli, are on every Pugliese table during the antipasto course, but good ones can be hard to find in the U.S. This homemade version replicates their crisp, crumbly texture, with occasional hits of black pepper.