Happy Birthday, Dad!

My dad would have been 67 today.

Later today, as I do every year, I will make his birthday cake, his favorite--German Chocolate.

But this morning I made biscuits.  My dad’s biscuits. 

Like many experienced cooks, my dad kept the “recipe” for biscuits in his head.  He measured with his eye and adjusted the dough as needed with his practiced hand.  When I moved out on my own, I began cooking for myself.  As a novice cook, I didn’t trust myself, didn’t have the confidence yet to work without a recipe. When I came back home once for a visit, I begged him for his biscuit recipe, he obliged me and wrote out the following:

From my mother, I learned how to make dinner.  She was a working mom, but every night she made sure we sat down together as a family around a well-balanced meal: meat, starch, and a vegetable.  When my sister and I grew older and my mom went back to school at night to earn her degree, all of us pitched in and took turns making meals.   I know my dad helped, too.  But when I think of him in the kitchen, it’s always breakfast time.   

He only made breakfast on the weekends.  During the week, with everyone rushing off to work or school, we usually ate toast or cereal.  Fast and easy.  But on Saturday and Sunday, Dad would rise, make a pot of coffee, and read The Washington Post.  Then he would make biscuits. 

Often I would wake up just as the biscuits were coming out of the oven.  Maybe it was smell that had pulled me out of my slumber and hunger that had provided the incentive to get out of bed. 

Hot biscuits.  I loved pulling them apart and watching the steam rise out from between the flaky layers.  Then came the hard part—deciding what to put on them.  Honey butter, apple butter, or jam?  I loved all three, so I usually had one with each topping.

But if I got up early, my dad would let me help him bake.  After we had shaped and cut out most of the dough with the biscuit cutter, he would give me the scraps to play with.  I would knead the scraps together and roll it into a long snake-like shape or coil it into a spiral.  Or I would experiment with new creations, filling the dough with jam or sugar or whatever I could think of and then folding it over.  Invariably, the filling would leak out during baking and burn into a sticky, black spot on the bottom of the baking sheet.  The thin snake would have to be pulled out early because it required less baking time than the thick, round biscuits.   In contrast to contrast to his high, fluffy, and identical golden rounds, the biscuits I made were small, misshapen, grey.   Tough from being overworked.

I learned a lot about baking that way. Playing.  Experimenting. Hanging out with my dad.  The best part was sitting down to eat with him afterwards. 

Knowing we had all morning together and nowhere to go. 

From my mom, I learned the fundamentals of cooking.  Shopping, planning, executing a meal.  Getting it done.  Doing it every night, because your family depends on you.  Understanding the importance of good nutrition.  All things I still use and appreciate.  A deep, deep respect for food. 

But from my dad, I learned the joy and camaraderie of the kitchen.  How to make things I love and crave to this day: bread, cinnamon rolls, biscuits.  Warm, delicious things that made the whole kitchen smell homey and sweet.

That’s how my kitchen smells this morning. 

Thanks, Dad.  I miss you.

Comments

[Tana]

What a sweet post. Happy birthday to your daddy.

[Angie]

Thanks, Tana.

It was great seeing you, however briefly, at Eco-Farm. You ditched me as soon as a cute baby came into sight. I understand completely, of course. Can't compete with that!

Hope all is well with you (and Logan)--keep posting!

[carol rauscher]

Happy Birthday Uncle Maurie! i miss him so much! his smile, his welcoming hug, his big laugh, his huge heart. i'm so sad he's gone, but so very thankful we had him in our lives for a brief time.

[Alice Q. Foodie]

Very nice post Angie - and those biscuits look great. What a great way to remember your dad!

[Angie]

Thanks, Carol and Alice.

I must confess I have changed his recipe over the years. I use butter now instead of shortening and I have adjusted the leavening a bit. But I know he would approve. When it came to cooking, he was an inveterate experimenter. And he loved butter, too!

[foodhoe]

I can just smell those biscuits... Happy Birthday

[Kristin]

Wow, what a surprise to see Dad's handwriting and the biscuit recipe nonetheless! But I swear I remember him adding salt to his biscuits, how he would open the blue Mortons salt canister and pour out about a quarter teaspoon. I have a distinct memory of the way the salt crystals looked in his large, strong hands. Sitting on the counter-top "helping" sift the flour and adding ingredients to the white and blue Pyrex bowl is one of my fondest childhood memories. I admit that I too have altered the recipe but I think I'll go out and get some shortening and give the recipe another try! Thanks for the post!