i have the strongest craving for my mom's "mile high" biscuits. they are as tall and light as the name suggests. More than once yesterday a golden high and delicately layered biscuit slathered with real butter and honey floated provocatively before my hungry eyes. I'm not a big biscuit fan, OK that's a lie. i am a fan of really wrong-headed golden greasy biscuits from Popeye's which my intuition whispers are doused with butter-flavoured animal fat and bleached white flour. to avoid valve congestion i enjoy one of those tasty treats about every seven years, just like swallowed gum, so the rumour goes, it takes seven biblical years to digest.
maybe it's the weather here, crisp and warm, the trees still with leaves turning gold and red, cool morning and evening. or maybe I'm a little home sick or maybe it's the oncoming holidays, the desire to cook , create, bake my loose unfocused feelings into something tangible.
I'll let you know how it all works out after I finish these squash-filled ravioli browned in butter and crisp sage.
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