When I was a kid, I read so many books that I’d have to write down the characters’ names on an index card and use the card as my bookmark, so I wouldn’t get mixed up as I went from book to book. I loved spending hours getting lost in a story, not moving a muscle except to turn the pages until Mom called me to dinner.

I loved reading books until I started chasing a master’s degree in English. By the time I claimed my diploma, I didn’t want to read another thing. Not a book, not a magazine, not the back of a cereal box. And my mother’s a librarian. FOR SHAME!

This summer, I’m determined to reclaim that Inner Bookworm and read something good. Enjoy the process, even. And I’ve already got a head start.

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For lo these past 16 months, some of our neighbors have given us odd looks and not really said much. And I’ve been OK with that, especially since the day I saw a few of the men in their backyard hunting for something. With guns. In a fenced-in backyard spanning less than an acre of manicured grass and concrete lawn cherubs.

Bang! Bang!

So, we didn’t think they were quite right. And it turns out, they’ve felt the same way about us.

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Biscuits require a little finesse, but cornbread is wonderfully forgiving and practically foolproof. It’s also cheap, which is why many Southerners have made many meals off cornbread and greens, cornbread and beans, and cornbread crumbled in milk or buttermilk.

There’s no real trick to it – make the batter, melt some butter in your cast-iron skillet, pour the melted butter into the batter, and pour the batter into the skillet –but the cornmeal matters. If you want a Southern cornbread, you need to use white cornmeal. Preferably something fine-ground, like Martha White®. The Southern preference for white cornmeal is rooted in agriculture; a century ago, the majority of corn raised here was white. As for leaving the sugar out, it makes sense when you consider the way cornbread is eaten here – not as a separate entity, like a dinner roll, but as an accompaniment. Something to sop up pot likker or crumble into a bowl of soup.

This recipe, dubbed Our Favorite Sour Milk Cornbread by Edna Lewis and Scott Peacock, makes a light, all-purpose cornbread that’s crunchy on the outside, moist on the inside. The fine crumb makes it just right for a cornbread dressing. Which we’ll be making tomorrow.

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I knew she was holding out on me.

Mom makes the best Monkey Bread, but she only does it once a year, when they release a new “Twilight” movie.

Kidding!

She’s made us monkey bread and hot chocolate (with marshmallows!) for breakfast every Thanksgiving morning since my bedroom was plastered with posters of The Muppets, Bo Duke and B.J. and The Bear. Biscuits quartered, dipped in butter, rolled in cinnamon sugar and baked in a bundt pan, forming a wreath of sweet and sticky goodness worth waiting a year for. Read More…

When I posted the Cinnamon Biscuits as a quick alternative to cinnamon rolls, I learned something very important: many, many cooks are yeast-phobic. And I get that. There’s nothing like uncovering a bowl of would-be pizza dough (after hours of waiting) and finding a sad, unrisen, murky pool of nothing.

What we need is a baby step. Something that has the flavor of yeast but doesn’t require all the wishing and hoping and proofing and folding. Something foolproof and delicious.

That’s Beer Bread. Simple. Quick. And so good with a schmear of honey butter or vegetable spread. And a big bowl of soup.

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So, when I married Jeff, I vowed to make his favorite cinnamon rolls on a semi-regular basis, but that isn’t always practical. There are times when, strangely enough, he doesn’t want to wait several hours for the dough to rise … and the rolls to rise … and the baking. Like when we’re having a lazy Sunday breakfast or a late-night craving strikes during a marathon of “The Wire.”(Oh. In. Deed.) That’s when I break out The Great Compromise: these Quick Cinnamon Biscuits.

Sweet goodness. There’s no bringing ingredients to room temperature or even melting a little butter. You mix the dough by hand in one bowl, pat it into a rectangle, and roll the filling inside. Then slice the dough into rounds, place them in a baking dish, and bake them. Since the biscuits are packed in tight, they stay soft and gooey inside, just like a cinnamon roll. Ice, eat, repeat.

As vows go, promising to stick around in sickness and in health is one thing. But promising to stick around in sickness and in health with a lifetime of cinnamon rolls (and cinnamon roll-type treats) is way more fun. In fact, you probably have the ingredients for these right now … Read More…

Every time I bake a batch of Peppery Bacon and Cheddar Scones – these magical clusters of  heat, tang and smoke – Jeff and I have the same conversation: what makes them scones instead of biscuits?

Typically, I’d think of a scone as being slightly sweet and made with cream. A European scone might be served with a little clotted cream and jam. A big, fat American scone would probably be loaded with fruit and maybe nuts. Or peanut butter and M&Ms. But bacon, cheddar, green onions and a smack of pepper? So not the choice of the pinkies-up crowd. However, after a little research, I discovered scones and biscuits are more similar than I’d thought. Both can be sweet or savory, triangular or round. Both can contain cream or buttermilk or the same fats, including lard. Both are crusty with soft interiors. Even the mixing methods are the same.

So, what is the real difference? Read More…

So, you remember that scene in “Sex and the City” when Carrie spots those petal pink Christian Louboutin stilettos in a shop window and purrs, “Hello, Lover”? Because, no matter how impractical, she has to have those shoes. She sees herself in those shoes. She’s made a connection.

That was me with Alice Waters’ Strawberry Shortcake. I’d been flipping through “The Art of Simple Food” since Mom gave it to me last Christmas, but I didn’t connect with anything until this morning, when I noticed this recipe and envisioned the spoonfuls of slightly sweetened strawberries and vanilla whipped cream spilling out of a just-cooled cream biscuit dusted with powdered sugar. Oh, yessssss. I connected.

So, I think I’m going to skip the processed and the Peeps® this weekend and see what other simple wonders have been hiding inside this book. Yes, I’m finally ready to fall in love with a cookbook without pictures. Next stop: puberty!

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