I started teaching cooking classes again. Not the formal classes—those I ran from 2014 until March, on Saturday mornings in the church kitchen, free, open to any young woman in the congregation who wanted to learn. I stopped them after Marcus died. Everything stopped after Marcus died. But Sister Beverly came to me after Tuesday dinner last week and said, "Mother Simms, when are you bringing back the Saturday classes? I have a daughter who needs them," and I looked at her daughter—nineteen years old, standing behind her mother with the expression of someone who has been volunteered for something—and I said, "Tell her to come this Saturday."
Three women came. Beverly's daughter Imani, who is nineteen and wants to learn because she just moved into her first apartment and has been surviving on Ramen and drive-through. Another young woman named Kezia, twenty-three, who is engaged and wants to be able to cook for her husband because her own mother never taught her, a fact she says without blame because there is no blame in it, only the honest acknowledgment that the knowledge sometimes skips a generation and you have to reach back across the gap for it. And a fifty-eight-year-old woman named Brenda who said, "I've been heating up canned food for twenty years and I'm tired of it," and sat down at the prep station with the determination of someone who has decided today is the day.
I taught them biscuits. You start with biscuits because biscuits teach you everything: how to handle dough without overworking it, how to use cold butter, how to trust your hands, how to know when something is right by how it feels rather than what the clock says. Imani's first batch was a little dense—she kneaded too much, the way beginners always do, because there's a counterintuitive truth in biscuit-making that you have to accept on faith before you understand it: the less you do, the better it is. Kezia's were lovely. Brenda's were genuinely good. She ate one hot from the oven and said, "Oh," just that one sound, and I said, "That's the right response," and she laughed, and so did I.
These are the biscuits I made that Saturday—not a plain version, but a generous one, because I wanted Imani and Kezia and Brenda to understand from the very first lesson that cooking can reward you handsomely when you learn to get out of its way. The maple and bacon give you something to look forward to, and the cheddar gives the dough a little grip and character, but none of that matters if you overwork it. When Brenda said “Oh” after her first bite, this is what she was tasting. I want you to taste it too.
Maple Bacon & Cheddar Buttermilk Biscuits
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 14 min | Total Time: 34 min | Servings: 12 biscuits
Ingredients
- 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
- 1 tablespoon baking powder
- 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1 teaspoon black pepper
- 8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, very cold, cut into 1/4-inch cubes
- 1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
- 6 strips thick-cut bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled
- 3/4 cup cold buttermilk, plus 2 tablespoons for brushing
- 3 tablespoons pure maple syrup, divided
Instructions
- Preheat and prep. Heat your oven to 425°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set it aside. Make sure your butter is as cold as possible—you can pop it in the freezer for 10 minutes if your kitchen is warm.
- Whisk the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and pepper until evenly combined.
- Cut in the butter. Add the cold butter cubes to the flour mixture. Using your fingertips or a pastry cutter, work the butter into the flour until the mixture looks like coarse crumbs with a few pea-sized pieces remaining. Those irregular pieces are what make your biscuits flaky—do not overwork them.
- Add the mix-ins. Stir in the shredded cheddar and the crumbled bacon, tossing gently to distribute.
- Add the wet ingredients. Combine the cold buttermilk and 2 tablespoons of the maple syrup in a small measuring cup. Pour it over the flour mixture and stir with a fork or your hands just until the dough comes together. It will look shaggy and slightly rough. That is correct. Stop there.
- Shape and cut. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Pat it gently into a rectangle about 3/4 inch thick—do not roll, do not press hard. Use a 2 1/2-inch round cutter or a sharp knife to cut the biscuits. Press the cutter straight down without twisting so the layers rise evenly. Gather scraps once, pat again, and cut the remaining biscuits.
- Brush and bake. Arrange biscuits on the prepared baking sheet so the sides are just touching (this helps them rise tall). Stir together the remaining 1 tablespoon maple syrup with the 2 tablespoons buttermilk and brush lightly over the tops. Bake for 12 to 14 minutes, until golden and set.
- Finish and serve. Remove from the oven and let sit for 2 minutes before pulling apart. Serve warm. If someone takes a bite and says “Oh,” you’ve done it right.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 238 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 25g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 390mg