biscuits

Some of my favorite childhood mornings started with the sound of a metal biscuit cutter clinking on the counter and the gentle sizzle of bacon in a cast iron skillet. My mother never rushed, just moving with that easy rhythm only years of cooking can bring. Her biscuits were stacked high in a towel-lined bowl. Always made with love. This post is my little way of keeping her tradition alive and sharing it with y’all—flaky biscuits and all.