Went to my first of 4 workshops yesterday. Thanks for letting me know Lara! Suzanne is an amazing writer. It was both an inspiring as well as a challenging event. I do my "homework" and look forward to the next. Here's what I wrote in a short time. Will edit. You know I love my biscuits.
The sunlight creeps above the eastern mountains, though I see them reflected in the west. I fill the tea pot with water to boil—and hear the dogs come to gather round my feet. They are ready for the barn. Cars begin to pass by the farm on morning commute. I pull a jar of butter from the fridge to warm a bit. Today is biscuits. Artisan coffee in the coffee press smells strong and soothing. The water’s almost boiled. I pull fresh strawberries from the fridge and cut them into small pieces—toss in a bit of raw sugar. The smell sweet and fresh...and are so smooth though wrapped in the grit of sugar. I try one. Just one.
We head to the barn where the sheep await new hay. They rise to greet us (me and the dogs) and offer a graceful Bahh.... I line the feeders and fill the water while listening to the ducks and chickens who have noticed our arrival. We fill their water as well, crack the ice on the pond so they can bathe, collect eggs and head home. The dogs will eat.
The strawberries have cried a bit in my absence. I measure out three cups of Butterworks Farms Whole Grain Flower. The texture is both so smooth while quietly rough. I pour my fingers though it. The cars continue by and I wonder if someone will stop to buy eggs. I add 2 tablespoons of backing powder, a little salt and stir about. I breath deeply. Here is my favorite part: I cube the butter (8 oz) into small chucks. The begin to melt in the warmth of my hands. The dolor is deep deep yellow. I drop them, one by one, into the ceramic bowl with the flour mixture. Soft yellow atop the beiges of the grains. Now, I get to mix these textures with my hands, working the butter into tiny chunks that become like a grain themselves—amount the grain. I add the strawberry colored strawberries...and then smoother with 2/3 cup of thick, creamy sour cream. Again, I breathe deeply. Appreciation. I kneed into a ball and then a roll. It is smooth, but still reveals the truth of it’s whole grains. The dogs are waiting by my side—they know their breakfast is next. I slice the roll into pieces and place on foil—in the oven at 400 degrees...they will cook for just 15 minutes. I sip coffee. I wait. They are warm smooth, crumbly ans slightly sweet. For me, they are divine.