Christmas Biscuits
Sometime last month, I received a text from my sister-in-law announcing that my brother-in-law wanted to revive and host an old family Christmas tradition known as the Barnes/Stringer Christmas. I am not sure when the last gathering was, but I’m thinking it has been at least 15 years, maybe longer.
Though we, (my family) are neither Barnes nor Stringers, we were always invited in the past. I can only remember attending a time or two, but Melissa, my wife, attended several times prior to our meeting. Held in a sub-division in Columbia, Mississippi, the gathering was always a lively one. Any time this group got together, the atmosphere was festive and jovial. Lee Barnes, along with Sheila Barnes, hosted the event. Mr. Lee totally enjoyed entertaining. He loved visiting and laughter, he loved to joke around, but most of all, I would say that he loved reminiscing about times past and truly had his own style of storytelling.
I was informed that the menu would be, as it always was, ham and biscuits, so I offered to bring 7Up biscuits. I initially tried these biscuits long ago, but only taught myself to make them in the last couple of years. Being from the South, I truly love all things “white flour.” I made my first batch of biscuits one day after my mother had passed and Melissa and I were missing Mom’s tomato gravy and biscuits. Melissa does a great job with the tomato gravy, but there are a couple of problems associated with it. First, she likes hers with rice. Secondly, well, I just felt like if I wanted biscuits and gravy, then I didn’t want to have to wait for someone else to make them. As a remedy, I decided to teach myself how to make tomato gravy and biscuits.
I assembled the ingredients on the counter, pulled up the recipe on my phone’s browser and began to make a huge mess. Somewhere in the instructions, it was mentioned that upon mixing, the end result would be a very wet mix. I didn’t know what that meant but I learned quickly. I used a lot of utensils, bowls, and glasses. I tried using glasses as rolling pins and biscuit cutters. I couldn’t figure out how to roll out the dough with my hands completely covered with this sticky goo. At one point, I even put on rubber gloves on and sprayed them with cooking spray. Finally, the biscuits were done and they tasted like Heaven.
The gravy, wasn’t as difficult, because I had already mastered brown gravy, and tomato gravy isn’t all that much different. In subsequent biscuit makings, I have studied my process and have learned to reduce the number of pots, pans, bowls, forks, spoons, spatulas, and glasses in the process. I have purchased a set of biscuit cutters, and barely get my hands dirty.
Nowadays, the medical professionals in my life, armed with lab results, my weight, as well as information derived from a personal interview and compared to such findings obtained in previous years, have advised me of the evils of white flour, butter, bacon fat, and most things that taste good. Consequently, I now only produce biscuits on special occasions, and usually for other people. For the Barnes/Stringer Christmas, a double batch yielded 51 biscuits.
When I arrived at the gathering, I handed off my offerings and set about to mingle. For about 45 minutes, I made my way around a crowded room, shaking hands, hugging, and visiting. There were around 50 people there. I noticed that we had all aged a little and some of us had gained some weight. I also noticed that there were a lot of young people who had grown to adults since I had seen them last. There were also the new additions of children, grandchildren, and spouses.
The meal was blessed, a line formed and in proud Southern tradition, we sat and ate until we were stuffed. Then I began to visit less and observe more. I noticed how members of this family moved around from small group to small group. I saw smiles break into laughter as someone shared a memory that others had forgotten. I watched as groups were pulled together to be photographed. I sought help in determining who belonged to who in the family, and I found out who the strangers were and how they were connected to the group. Then things began to wind down, and I watched as they began to disband and say their goodbyes. I gathered a few of my biscuits for a snack and for the next morning’s breakfast, said my goodbyes and made my way out.
Later that night over a couple of biscuits with jelly, I revisited the evening. I thought about a couple of the family members who were absent at the gathering and wondered what was going on with them. I recalled that past ill-feelings between this one or that one seemed to be settled. I pondered the one person in the family who now lived a totally different lifestyle than the others. “Alternative” lifestyle, you might say, and how this is becoming more commonplace and more accepted. I considered the fact that this family and this gathering was like hundreds of gatherings that go on each year between October and January. Then I thought again about the season and the fact that many in our country don’t even acknowledge the origin and history of Christmas and seem to be turned off or even enraged at the mere mention of the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus.
When I laid down to sleep, I thought of my old friend Lee Barnes, and how he would have enjoyed the night. I thought about Christmas and how in a short 12 months, another Christmas will come and vowed to be a better person throughout the coming year. But mostly, I thought about biscuits and human fellowship and the value thereof, especially in light of a world where handheld or wrist strapped devices have changed the way we communicate and interact, and I reconcile that it is the way it is.
So today, I wish everyone reading this a Merry Christmas and in the new year, to remember the magic that exists in a single biscuit.