Biscuits




	-------------------------------------------------------- WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 The Heart" February 28, 2001 Volume 1, Issue 7 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com -------------------------------------------------------- By subscription only! Welcome to your next issue of "WRITE 2 THE HEART" ----------------------------------------------------- SPONSORSHIP NOTICE ----------------------------------------------------- For a FREE personalized health analysis profile, visit Teraforma Health, Inc. <http://teraformahealth.com/tfh/56094.html> Your personal profile results will be shown immediately along with appropriate nutritional recommendations. While there, check out our line of supplements. ----------------------------------------------------- This ezine may be freely forwarded to as many people as you wish, please send the whole issue. ----------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------- Grandma's Biscuits By: Cheryl Speir ----------------------------------------------------- I made a huge pan of biscuits for supper one night. They turned out all right. David and the boys ate them, then David took what was left to work to share with his co-workers at break. But they were not the biscuits of my youth. I began my fascination with biscuits at the ripe old age of six. That summer I was allowed to stay with Grandma Clara and Grandpa Lutrick all by myself. For me it was an adventure. After all, I was their New Orleans grand-daughter roughing it in the country. There was no indoor plumbing of any kind. Water was hauled in from a spring and drank from a dipper. Baths were taken in the creek! Bathroom, well, you really don't want to know. I couldn't wait to scandalize my friends with this lack of conveniences. The meals were the best part. Biscuits were the main staple with each meal, if not the meal itself. Always served with Grandpa's home-made syrup, made from sugar cane he grew himself. To my young mind we were having dessert. There was a long narrow table that served as a counter in the kitchen. I remember standing at its end and watching with fascination as Grandma Clara made her huge pan of cathead biscuits. She kept her flour in a large lard bucket. She would take out and sift what she needed using only her eye to measure. Making a well in the center she would add baking powder, salt and lard, using her finger tips to stir. Then she would pour in fresh milk. Again she would use her fingertips to stir. Never did she stir up the flour from the bottom of the bowl. When she was satisfied with the consistency, she would form the dough into large balls rolling and patting them between her hands. Each ball of dough was dipped in grease melted in the baking pan and turned over so the greased portion of dough was on top. When she popped them into the oven, she would sift the flour remaining in the bowl back into the lard can. Biscuits began the day. Served with butter and syrup that Grandpa had stored in tins. I never remember getting tired of it. Breakfast biscuits were left over from the previous day. Whatever was left after breakfast was fed to the pack of dogs laying in the yard. Lunch was the main meal of the day. There was always a hearty soup made with vegetables grown right there on the farm and canned in Grandma's kitchen. Fresh biscuits were used in place of crackers and to sop up every delicious bite. Afterwards more biscuits with the rich syrup for dessert. Supper was leftovers. Once, I remember being served beans and startled at the change. It was at that time I was introduced to the joy of seasoning your own food with chili powder. Of course biscuits and syrup were right there on the table. Once, I asked if they ever ate sandwiches. Grandma looked at me and without saying a word began getting sandwich makings out of the old refrigerator. I quickly stopped her telling her I just wanted to know if she ever ate sandwiches, I wasn't going to miss the biscuits and syrup for any old sandwich! To soon I would be home and eating all the "common" food again. I always try to duplicate the biscuits of my youth, yet never have I succeeded. Maybe it's the lard; but then maybe it's not the biscuits I want as much as a connection with a past I can never revisit. Biscuits have come to symbolize a more innocent time in my life. That may be why I bake them, to share a part of my youth with my children. Cheryl Speir moderator@write2theheart.com ---------------------------------------------------------- I am the editor of Write 2 The Heart. I am still searching for the "perfect" biscuit recipe. If you have one, please share! ----------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------ Do you have a heart-warming story to share with our readers? Please send it to moderator@write2theheart.com ------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------ God's Season By: Gale Stevens ------------------------------------------------------------ For everything there is a season For every event there is a reason We forget this and begin to mourn We let our hearts get ragged and torn But there is no reason for us to cry Some day we will know the reasons why For now it is not our place to know The only job we have is to grow Grow in our faith and our love Learning how to trust God above Knowing that He will always provide Knowing that He is always by our side We do not have to know the reason Just know that all is done in God's season Gale Stevens Galetexasbelle @ cs.com --------------------------------------------------------- Gale lives in Texas with her two daughters. She has the ability to pen a poem on nearly any subject given to her. One day we will have to "test" her! ----------------------------------------------------------- From our Readers ----------------------------------------------------------- I was sitting in front of my computer after I had finished my work, and I was feeling so sad and low and felt I had no one I could talk to, so I re-read Cheryl's story about her and Davy's trip to New Orleans and some of the other poems and stories and all of the sudden I realized that I always have someone to talk to ...so I prayed.. Cyndy ----------------------------------------------------------- CLASSIFIED ADDS ----------------------------------------------------------- Visit TeraForma Health, Inc. "http://teraformahealth.com/tfh/56094.html" for a FREE personalized body typing. Discover which foods and exercise programs are right for your body type. ----------------------------------------------------------- Copyright 2001 Write 2 The Heart ------------------------------------------------------------