I really feel like these do not need an introduction, but perhaps my fascination with these little dough pucks does. When I set out to write this post I realized how, as good Southern recipe goes, this begins with a story. So I broke this post into two parts. The first is the story, the second will be the recipe and the method.
When in graduate school and still living with my parents (shout out to that back home baller life), my father kept remarking how making the perfect biscuit eluded him. Given his more than proficient cooking skills, especially for Southern staples he grew up on, I decided to try my hand at making a batch one day on a whim. I wondered how hard it could truly be. Truth be told, I was probably avoiding writing a paper for my psychopathology class. After doing some quick recipe research, preheating my oven, and about 30 minutes after remarking that he always underworked his dough, I presented him with a pan of freshly made biscuits. Between me, my mom and dad, all 12 biscuits were devoured in the span of 2 hours. My dad and I continued to pursue the perfect biscuit: recipe and technique. Both of us have a bit of competitive edge; therefore, it was only a matter of time before this became a ride on the trash talk express, and that, my friends, is where this story takes a departure into interesting.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEEEE…
In this corner: standing at 5 foot, 4 inches tall, the butter-enthusiast herself, Savannah “like the city” Eidson (this was pre-marriage, I’ll use my maiden name)…
In this corner: standing at 6 foot, 4 inches tall, the Crisco crusher himself, purveyor of the 5 P’s, former offensive guard for America’s team, Jim “better get two of those” Eidson…
So now that you have a sense of the height difference between me and my dad, you can probably guess that there is a slight difference between our hand sizes and when I say slight I mean significant. Base of my palm to the tip of my third finger is just under six inches. I cannot throw a regulation size football properly. Read: my hands are tiny. My father’s hand measurement is closer to 8 inches. His hands are GIANT, which was wonderful for the many pass-protection drills, but not so much for biscuit making. Why you ask? Because there is a significant difference between the amount of force my dad and I create when we work a dough. But we have the opposite problem, he is worried that his large hands are going to overwork the dough and he underworks it. I’m worried my delicate digits are going to underwork the dough, so I overwork it (#psychology).
In addition to our size differences, we were also on different teams of fat. My dad believed Crisco was the finer choice, as it is what he grew up with in Alabama, and thought it resulted in a crisper biscuit top.
I was team butter all the way. I thought it made a more flavorful, hydrated dough, as it imparted more steam into the dough when baked.
Like all good rivalries, we decided to have a biscuit-off around Thanksgiving and it was a draw (can you say fixed?). I was feeling a bit unsatisfied with the results and then stumbled upon the best news ever. The great State Fair of Texas held a biscuit-off every year called the “Red River Biscuit Showdown” that is held during the Red River Shootout football game. This was my chance. I would tell my dad that we were taking this to the field (errr…actually the Fair) but you catch my drift. It would be a showdown of sorts, and instead of it being between OU and Texas, it would be between me and my dad. Or so I thought.
It turns out that participants for the biscuit competition are drawn randomly, which you have to first apply for, and only 14 are chosen. As it is a live cooking demonstration, they can only accommodate based on the number of ovens they have. Dreams. Dashed. We decided it was unlikely that both of us would be chosen. So I applied for the competition, we called a truce between the fats, and I happened to be selected (can you say beginner’s luck?). My dad and I spent July (when you are notified of your selection) through October perfecting my biscuits. My former opponent was now my biggest ally and taste taster. Things I figured out during my biscuit practice drills:
Biscuits cannot be rushed. If you are nervous or anxious, two things happen: your body temperature rises and your muscles tense. Anytime I’ve made biscuits in a pinch for time, they have always turned out tough and have not browned properly.
You need to keep things cold. In addition to keeping your psyche on ice, your utensils, bowls, and any other biscuit paraphernalia need to be chilled too.
Crisco is more forgiving than butter. Crisco is shelf stable, meaning it does not need to be refrigerated, and in a competition that is very helpful.
If you want to use butter, freeze the sticks whole first. Shout out to Southern Living for this tip. You can get a grater and literally grate frozen butter over your flour to cut it in. Genius.
Flour makes a difference. Yes, your standard all-purpose flour is great for a Saturday morning biscuit at home. But want to take it to the next level? Use a self rising flour. Before the competition, I ordered 20 pounds of White Lily Self Rising Flour. Why so specific? Because White Lily is made from a softer type of wheat that results in a more tender flour, ergo a more tender biscuit.
If you are going to use butter, make it European—oui oui. It has a higher milk fat content, and will make the inside more fluffy. You’re already eating a biscuit, this is not the time to try and make them a diet food.
Oven temperature is crucial. At the Fair, my oven panel went out because the circuit was shorted (thank you to ESPN College Game Day) and I had to be moved to another oven. My oven never quite got hot enough and my biscuits did not brown properly.
Unlike the saying “good fences make good neighbors” biscuits LOVE neighbors. The closer, the better. It helps them rise up.
If you use self rising flour, or any baking soda on its own, you must use an acid to cause a reaction. Most of time this is buttermilk.
Use your cooking utensils instead of your hands as much as possible. Cut in your fat with a pastry cutter, mix your milk in with a wooden spoon or spatula.
P.S. If you made it to the very end of this post. BRAVO! Thank you for sharing my love and pursuit of the perfect biscuit.
Got my game face on at the Red River Biscuit Showdown at the State Fair of Texas! As you can see there are stands in the back and family members and fellow biscuit enthusiasts can sit and enjoy the competition. I had over 20 people show up in support, but all of them are standing on the barriers. Hence all the empty seats!
A few of the 20! Shout out to the Crain family for stopping by to cheer me on!