This has been a long week. The time change always unsettles me--if you hadn't already known how much I crave consistency, you would have realized it Sunday morning. Sour was how I felt when I changed the clocks back in my house. So this afternoon, tired from a long day at work, I arrived at Book People with a granola bar and tea bag in my purse. I asked for one cup of hot water and sat in the cafe (where I often overhear an over-enthusiastic young playwright who enjoys talking to anyone and everyone around him).
To avoid this blooming writer, I sat in the corner, near the magazines.
Soon after, an older man (perhaps a father, perhaps a grandfather) brought his 5-year-old girl to a table adjacent to my own. They sat down with a big stack of fashion magazines.
The girl, tow-headed with thick eye-glasses, leafed through the pages, stopping at each image to comment on the model's hairstyle, lipstick color and outfit.
"Now this one, well I like how fluffy this skirt is, but I don't know why we see so much skin up here. I like the feathers more."
The father would listen to the daughter earnestly, agreeing with her assessments and offering her the words she lacked.
"Ah," he would say, "So you like a peach color on the lips and an A-line cut. Very good choice."The little girl would beam, nod her head, and then flip to the next page.
On my own table, I had a stack of magazines (not fashion, but cooking) yet I didn't want to open them. I wanted to sit and listen to this man sharing a moment with his little girl.
When she got up to pick out yet another fashion magazine, I complimented him on her intelligence and charm.
"She liked trucks last week," he explained, "and now it's this. But I don't care. I just want her to know I love her and I think she's the star in my world."
Of course, I grew sentimental. I thought about my own parents--how well they lavished love on me, encouraging me to be all the things I dreamed of, even if they knew very little about the worlds I loved.
I remembered Christmas mornings, and the care my mom and dad took to make us feel special and valued. Gifts were given, food was prepared, and I felt warm and safe and completely understood.
These are the biscuits my mother makes every holiday season. They require so few ingredients, and yet they are always the first items to go at any party, brunch or breakfast at home.
I added cheddar cheese and sausage (a Moutrie classic) to my biscuits but variation could bring forth even more delicious morning bites.
These remind me of love, of parents, of the right words at the right time.
I wonder what this little girl will think of twenty years from now. I wonder what items or foods or words will bring her back to these seemingly insignificant moments.
Whatever they may be...they will always be beautiful to her. Just as these small gifts my parents gave to me now mean the world.
Cheddar and Sausage Biscuits2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 egg
1/3 cup whole milk (approximately)
1 cup sliced lil' smokey sausages
1 cup cheddar cheese, shredded
1. Preheat your oven to 425 degrees Faranheit. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
2. In a medium bowl, whisk together your flour, baking powder, and salt. In a liquid measuring cup, measure oil. Add egg. Pour milk until liquid reaches the 1 cup mark. Whisk well.
3. Pour wet ingredients into dry and fold very gently. Once almost combined, fold in cheddar cheese and sausage. Do not overmix.
4. Using a spoon or your hands, drop biscuits on cookie sheet.
5. Bake in preheated oven for 10-12 minutes, or until just lightly golden brown.
