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Heart Biscuits — Because Love on a Plate Is Always Worth Celebrating

The Savannah Community Foundation called. They want to give me an award — the Community Heritage Award, for "preserving and promoting the Gullah-Geechee culinary tradition of the Georgia Lowcountry." Me. An award. For cooking. I said, "You're giving me an award for doing what I've been doing my whole life?" The woman on the phone laughed and said, "Yes, Mrs. Henderson. That's usually how heritage awards work." Fair point.

The ceremony is in June. Black-tie, which means I need a dress. Denise is already planning the shopping trip. Kayla wants to do my hair. I said, "My hair has been doing fine on its own for sixty-six years." Kayla said, "Granny, you're getting an award. Let me do your hair." I am letting her do my hair. I am not letting Denise pick my dress. There are limits.

I told Mrs. Crawford about the award. She said, "Well, it's about time. You've been feeding this city since before most of those foundation people were born." I said, "Mrs. Crawford, I don't feed the whole city." She said, "You feed me. That counts." She's not wrong. Feeding one person counts. Feeding twenty people counts. Feeding two hundred and sixty people at a Lowcountry boil counts. It all counts because it's all the same act: love, on a plate, handed to someone who needs it.

Made shrimp and grits tonight because I got the call and I needed to process it and processing, for me, means standing at the stove with the grits bubbling and the shrimp sizzling and the kitchen smelling like home. I process joy the same way I process grief: with butter and time and the steady rhythm of stirring.

Now go on and feed somebody.

Shrimp and grits got me through the phone call, but biscuits are what I make when I want to hold the feeling a little longer — when something good has happened and I need my hands to be busy so my heart can catch up. Heart Biscuits are exactly what they sound like: simple, Southern, shaped with intention, and worth every minute of the making. If you’re going to feed somebody — and I hope you will — you could do a lot worse than starting here.

Heart Biscuits

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 27 min | Servings: 12 biscuits

Ingredients

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
  • 1 tablespoon baking powder
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 3/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
  • 6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cubed
  • 3/4 cup cold whole buttermilk
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted (for brushing)

Instructions

  1. Preheat oven. Heat oven to 425°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.
  2. Mix dry ingredients. Whisk together flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt in a large bowl until evenly combined.
  3. Cut in butter. Add cold cubed butter to the flour mixture. Using your fingertips or a pastry cutter, work the butter into the flour until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs with some pea-sized pieces remaining.
  4. Add buttermilk. Pour in the cold buttermilk and stir gently with a fork just until a shaggy dough comes together. Do not overmix.
  5. Turn and fold. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Pat it into a 3/4-inch-thick rectangle, fold it in thirds like a letter, then pat out again. Repeat once more for flaky layers.
  6. Cut biscuits. Pat dough to 3/4-inch thickness. Using a heart-shaped cutter (or a 2 1/2-inch round cutter), press straight down without twisting and cut out biscuits. Gather scraps, re-pat, and cut remaining dough.
  7. Bake. Place biscuits on the prepared baking sheet with sides just touching. Bake for 11–13 minutes, until risen and golden on top.
  8. Brush and serve. Immediately brush tops with melted butter. Serve warm, as-is or alongside anything that needs a little love on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 168 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 21g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 210mg

Dorothy Henderson
About the cook who shared this
Dorothy Henderson
Week 315 of Dorothy’s 30-year story · Savannah, Georgia
Dot Henderson is a seventy-one-year-old grandmother, a retired school lunch lady, and the undisputed queen of Lowcountry cooking in her corner of Savannah, Georgia. She spent thirty-five years feeding schoolchildren — sneaking extra portions to the ones who looked hungry — and now she feeds her seven grandchildren every Sunday without exception. She cooks with lard, seasons by feel, and ends every recipe the same way her mama did: "Now go on and feed somebody."

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