As I was taking out the last pan of chocolate chip cookies tonight, I noticed that one of them was misshaped. It looked almost like a little man.
This reminded me of grandmother’s “biscuit man.” (I wrote a rather long post about her a while back here.)
Every Sunday, my Grandma would cook an elaborate dinner that we would eat after church (or after everyone else came in from church, as was the case when I got older).
Sometimes she would make fried chicken, sometimes it was a beef or pork roast, and occasionally she made stew beef and rice. These meals would always come with macaroni and cheese and a variety of vegetables, plus either corn bread or biscuits. Usually my plates would consist of a meat and bread, sometimes a baked potato, since I was such a picky eater. My husband called that an abomination after he came along (he gained about 25 pounds in the first six months of dating from eating her food!)
Grandma took great pride in her biscuits, as many older Southern women do. She made them from scratch, of course, and they really were wonderful. One thing my dad gave me after she passed was the stuff she made biscuits with (her pan, sifter, cutter, and recipe), and I’ve only made them right once, probably because I refuse to use my hands to mix the dough like she did. Hers were perfect every time.
When I was a little kid, she would always take the leftover scraps of dough and make a little man out of them. It looked kind of like a snow man. Whenever the biscuits were ready, she’d call me in to get the biscuit man.
The other grandkids fussed over not getting the biscuit man when they were there, but she never made one for them. It was just a special thing for the two of us. ❤️ I was always her favorite, which she told me after I got older, not that it was much of a secret.
Grandma is never far from my thoughts, and I love how such little things like seeing a misshaped cookie can bring some of those wonderful memories I have of her to the front of my mind.