Wednesday, February 27, 2019

Butter My Buns And Call Me A Biscuit

Butter my buns and call me a biscuit is one of my best friend’s sayings. Now I know the literal meaning. My buns are going to get larger if I don’t stop eating buttered biscuits!

I have been traveling in the South for about six weeks. Generally I eat the food that is in my RV, but now and then I eat out. I love a hearty late breakfast in a restaurant. When I eat that, I don’t eat the rest of the day except for a light snack later. I particularly love Cracker Barrel breakfasts because I adore their biscuits. I have a ritual. They serve two with breakfast, along with gravy. I like their gravy, but it’s really just the biscuits that I am jonesing for, and not just at Cracker Barrel. I eat one with gravy and the other with jam. Every single time.

I’m finding in my travels in the South that these doughy mounds of goodness are EVERYWHERE. Recently I stayed at a hotel that provided breakfast and they had the same biscuits on their breakfast buffet.

They have become my heroin. All served with warmth and innocence. Butter. Jam. Honey. And a big Southern: Y’all have a good day.

I’m currently camping in a state park. There are no biscuits for miles. For the next 5 days I’m going to eat just the food in my RV fridge. Healthy food, except for a few cookies. Lots of fresh fruit and vegetables.

At one of the first Cracker Barrels I visited on this trip, they weren’t very busy and a clerk followed me all around their Country Store while I browsed. Just followed me. Hovering. Pretending she was straightening shelves. I know she was worried I was going to shoplift something. REALLY?! It made me angry to be treated like any minute I was going to bolt out the door with some cutesy knickknack or vintage candy. And I nearly complained.

But she almost had it right. I have no need or desire for spatulas with pigs on the handles or mugs with witty sayings. But had there been a big basket of biscuits sitting there, I would have committed a crime, stuffing my pockets with them, even as I was handcuffed and hauled away.

My name is Sue Ann and I’m a biscuit addict.

There must be a Biscuits Anonymous somewhere.

6 comments:

Marilynne Smith said...

Hubby and I are biscuits (and gravy) enthusiasts. You might guess he comes from Oklahoma, where the biscuit craze is going strong. Just be sure you have an egg with your breakfast so you get some protein.

stellans said...

*in the same meeting as you* "Hi, Sue Ann!"

Thanks to my Grandmother Armstrong, I learned early on how to make good biscuits. However, it's so much easier to run over to Cracker Barrel every now and then for a fix...

Beverly said...

I actually detest Cracker Barrel gravy. In fact, I very seldom order biscuits and gravy at a restaurant. The only exception is a Bob Evans restaurant. I am truly spoiled though because all I have to do is buy a package of sausage and the next day is a huge pan of the best sausage gravy ever cooked simmering on the stove and I'm not the one doing the cooking. My son is an amazing cook and he spoils me over and above any son should spoil a mom. I eat my fill and then package up servings for freezing. Frozen Pillsbury buttermilk biscuit pucks are truly heavenly with this gravy. I can bake a lot of things, but my biscuits are like rocks, so frozen is my answer. Much less frustrating.

Whitney said...

I never understood the allure of biscuits until I moved to the south. If you ever are by North West Arkansas please hit up Ricks Iron Skillet for biscuits -- the best I've ever had... which, granted, isn't saying too much, because I'm from the North, but they are amazing and I Jones hard for them with good jelly and butter.

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Clipping Path said...

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