Just how many biscuits can a boy eat?


Commentary By Arnold Dyre

   When I was a boy, my mother made biscuits most every morning. I could eat a lot of them!
   Generally, I would start off with a couple of hot buttered biscuits that I ate along with a couple of eggs, several slices of fried bacon (or sometimes sausage or ham), and a generous helping of grits.
   During the summertime, Mother often sliced some fresh tomatoes to go with breakfast, and I frequently would make a biscuit and tomato sandwich, or Mother might have some sausage gravy, and I would have gravy and biscuits.
   When I finished the breakfast main course, I would have biscuits and jelly, jam or syrup for breakfast dessert. If, by chance, there were any biscuits left, I would make biscuit and bacon/sausage/ham (as the case might be) with a slice of cheddar cheese sandwiches that I stuffed in a coat pocket or a hunting sack or squirreled away in some other fashion to take with me on my daily adventures.
   I never really counted how many biscuits I consumed at breakfast and in the period that followed before the noon-time meal that, back then, we called “dinner.” Mother, though,  usually had a second batch of biscuits out of the oven before we had finished off the first batch at the breakfast table, and there was likely to be a new batch for dinner, along with corn bread.
   Now I know for a fact that biscuits are not fattening, because I was skinny as a rail. My sisters all ate biscuits, too, and they were not fat.
   Mother did not make huge biscuits. She used an old Campbell’s soup can to cut her biscuits. I do not mean an old, rusty tin can that a goat would not eat. I mean an immaculate can that looked almost silver, and Mother kept it in the flour when she was not using it to cut the biscuits.
   Mother rolled the biscuits to a reasonable thickness and cut them with that can, and they turned out to be just about the most perfect and best biscuits I have ever had — even to this day!
   Mister Jim and Miss Willie Moore could make good biscuits, too, but they looked different than my mother’s biscuits. Miss Willie could turn out perfectly-rounded and very smooth “drop biscuits” by dropping them into the pan from a big wooden mixing bowl with a spoon.
   The ones Mister Jim made did not look as perfect and pretty as Miss Willie’s, but they tasted the same. I spent a considerable amount of time eating breakfast with Mister Jim and Miss Willie — often after I had already eaten at home!
   I confess that I have eaten canned biscuits, which are way down the line from the likes of my mother’s biscuits or those of Miss Willie or Mister Jim. The hardest thing about preparing canned biscuits is getting them out of the can and every time the “can” (which is really cardboard) POPS, I jump like a covey of quail has flushed right before I stepped on them.
   At my house, I do the canned biscuit cooking and, oh, on average, I can probably eat eight to a dozen of them.
   There is really no telling how many of my mother’s biscuits I could eat now that I am full grown!


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