Fluffy Biscuit Muffins

Last week of school. The seniors graduated on Thursday — caps, gowns, the processional, the speeches about futures and possibilities and the world awaiting them, which it is, though not always in the ways the speeches suggest. I attended, as I always do, and sat in the bleachers and watched students I have taught walk across the stage and thought, as I always think: I gave you Fitzgerald and Dickinson and the ability to construct a sentence that says what you mean. What you do with that is up to you. Three of my seniors hugged me afterward. One cried. I did not cry because I am a professional and also because I have been doing this for forty years and if I cried at every graduation I would be permanently dehydrated.

The last day of school is always strange — the building empties and the silence is sudden and total, like someone turned off a machine you'd stopped hearing. I cleaned out my desk drawers, organized my files, put the books back on the shelves in the order I insist upon and the custodial staff will immediately disarrange. I stood in my empty classroom and looked at the desks and the chalkboard (yes, we still have a chalkboard; I refused the whiteboard) and felt the particular sadness of a room that was full of people and now isn't. Then I locked the door and drove home and started summer.

Summer for Ruth Feldman means: more time with Marvin, more cooking, more visits to David and the grandchildren, more writing for the blog, and the slow, sweet rhythm of days that are not dictated by bell schedules. I made a strawberry shortcake with the first good strawberries of the season — local, from the farm stand on Merrick Road — and the shortcake was exactly right, buttery and crumbling and piled with berries and whipped cream, and I ate it on the porch and thought: this is the reward. Forty years of teenagers, and strawberry shortcake on the porch in June.

The shortcake I made that first evening of summer was built on biscuits — not the sweet, cakey kind, but proper buttery ones that crumble at the edges and hold their shape just long enough to catch the berry juice. These Fluffy Biscuit Muffins are exactly what I used: a simple, honest dough baked in a muffin tin so each one comes out with a crisp bottom and a soft, pillowy top, ready to be split and piled with whatever the farm stand had that day. After forty years of bell schedules and lesson plans, I wanted something that required no precision — just flour and butter and the good sense to stop before you overwork the dough.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 18 minutes | Total Time: 28 minutes | Servings: 12

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup cold butter, cubed
1 cup whole milk
1 large egg

Instructions

Preheat oven. Heat oven to 400°F. Grease a standard 12-cup muffin tin or line with paper liners.
Combine dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt until evenly mixed.
Cut in butter. Add the cold cubed butter to the flour mixture. Using a pastry cutter or your fingertips, work the butter in until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs with some pea-sized pieces remaining. Do not overwork.
Add wet ingredients. In a small bowl, whisk together the milk and egg. Pour into the flour mixture and stir gently with a fork just until a shaggy dough forms — a few dry streaks are fine. Overmixing will make the muffins tough.
Fill and bake. Divide the batter evenly among the prepared muffin cups, filling each about 3/4 full. Bake for 16–18 minutes, until the tops are golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Cool and serve. Let the muffins cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack. Serve warm or at room temperature. To use as shortcake, split each muffin in half horizontally and top with fresh sliced strawberries and freshly whipped cream.

Nutrition (per serving)

Fluffy Biscuit Muffins — The Shortcake Beneath the Strawberries