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Bigmama |
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by
Angie Ledbetter © 2003
No matter how many times I’ve
tried, I just can’t make biscuits from scratch like
those my grandmother has been making for eight decades.
I know the ingredients needed and the special cooking items to use,
but success eludes me.
When I first started begging Bigmama to tell me her secrets, she
told me to watch her make them several times and then just try it
on my own while she stood over me. She didn’t use exact measurements,
but expertly added a glob of this, a glass of that, and a little blob of the
other. Without fail her biscuits always rose like obedient little angels
and sent the most mouthwatering aroma throughout her pink kitchen. My batch came
out of the oven as hardheaded, disobedient lumps.
This experience was frustrating for a college-educated woman with decent culinary
skills of her own. How could my grandmother achieve 100 percent success and I zero?
Obviously, I was in need of more training and better observation skills. Once
again, I traveled miles across town to her house, determined to notice every detail of the
biscuit making process this time.
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Pulling into her driveway, I am
always struck by the beauty of her simple house
made from specially ordered pink-tinted Mojave
bricks, and the colorful array of lovingly planted
spring flowers in her beds. Known for her green
thumb and the ability to bring dead sticks to life,
Bigmama has a mysterious way of handling plants,
people, and food that few others have.
The back door is propped open and strains of "The
Old Rugged Cross" waft out with the smell of brewing chicory coffee.
Bigmama is busy in her kitchen getting the cooking utensils ready.
I sit at the bar attached to her work area and enjoy a cup of coffee.
The coffee and chat are a mandatory ritual and remind me that time is
not of the essence, and to all things there is a time. My busy working mom schedule is put aside,
and we visit in the moment, not worrying about what needs to be done later. The singing of her
old church hymns adds a steady rhythm to the process of gathering the items; a different approach
from my harried, hurried ways.
"Now, it’s important that you always have your things ready at hand," Bigmama
winks at me. I’m normally scattered, dashing off to the store to purchase a bag of flour or
some other staple.
"Now, you just watch me make these biscuits and you will be able to do it too," she
says, and continues humming her hymns.
I am fascinated. She prepares by heart her own grandmother’s recipe, seemingly without
thinking. I jokingly ask, "Bigmama, wouldn’t it just be easier to get some of those canned
biscuits and use them?"
I get no reply, only a small smile and a raised eyebrow as she gently sifts the flour into her
favorite red biscuit bowl.
My mind wanders over the beauty of her home. It is not fancy and does not sit in a good neighborhood.
It is the home my Pappy helped build in 1945. My favorite room is the back bedroom where my
sisters and I spent many childhood nights digging through her jewelry box and trying on her flowing
peignoir sets as the adults visited in the parlor. The massive bed frame holds a mattress that is
stuffed with cotton picked from a southern plantation more than 100 years ago. There is no other bed
like it in the world, and I am thankful that she has kept it all these years. I am proud of
my grandmother for always recognizing quality, and for not discarding things just because they’ve
gone out of vogue.
People have always felt comfortable coming to Bigmama’s house, relaxing and
visiting for many long hours. It is an oasis of calm from the craziness of the world.
"Are you paying attention? Are you learning anything today?" she smiles.
"Bigmama, I’m learning a whole lot today!" I tell her truthfully.
We spend the lazy afternoon going through the steps to making those one-of-a-kind Bigmama biscuits.
I want to teach my own daughter and grandchildren this art of cooking, teaching, and learning that
spans generations and times.
I will always see her hands gently and lovingly pinching the dough off just so, and waiting for
the beautiful rewards of the finished product. It is a privilege to help her lift the heavy
iron skillet into her pink oven. Someday, I will make perfect biscuits too.
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Reflecting
with the Word
My visits to Bigmama’s kitchen drew me into study of the Word. You
may enjoy these readings also:
*Sing in praise to the Lord, (.)
*Honoring elders, (.)
*For everything there is an appointed time,(.)
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Angie Ledbetter is
a mom, ministry worker, Scout enthusiast, columnist,
author, and freelance writer who is partial to
inspirational subject matter. Her new co-authored
book is Seeds
of Faith ~ An Inspirational Almanac. She
is a regional representative for the National
Association of Women Writers.
For more information see Writers
Gumbo.
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Scripture taken
from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®.Copyright © 1973,
1978, 1984 International Bible Society. All rights
reserved throughout the world. Used by permission
of International Bible Society.
NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered
trademarks of International Bible Society. Use of either trademark
for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written
consent of International Bible Society.
Scripture quotations marked (NLT) are taken from the Holy Bible,
New Living Translation, copyright ©1996. Used by permission
of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, IL 60189, USA.
All rights reserved.
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PROVERBS
31:29-30
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"Many
women do noble things, but you surpass them all."
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD
is to be praised.
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(NIV)
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Recommended
Reading
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