Grandmama’s angel biscuits
Angel biscuits are a very special family tradition on my dad’s side. Or, at least they were while she was living. She never did anything without a long, crisp-white Virginia Slim hanging out the side of her mouth- and making biscuits was no exception. I don’t recall exactly how old I was, but I remember looking up at her as she worked the dough by hand. Starting by swirling the buttermilk into the yeast, then slowing incorporating it into the flour and shortening. Since she was just shy of 5 feet tall, I reckon I must’ve been under 10 years old.
She was always laughing. It was my favorite thing about her. Whether she was making an inappropriate joke during family rummy cube, singing hymns while my uncle accompanied her on the piano, or cracking up at one of Grandaddy’s jokes- she was always laughing.
After she’d just barely worked the dough, she handed me the rubber nesting bowl, popped the lid on it, and told me to go put it in the outside fridge. All true southerners know something’s special when you put it in the outside fridge. That’s where my step mom would put the fancy bottled waters when we came to visit. Everyone knew the inside fridge was for everybody, but the outside fridge held items that had a specific purpose and resting this biscuit dough was of the utmost importance.
I've been practicing making these for a few years- I want the recipe to be just right when I share it with y'all. I promise I'll share it soon.