I grew up "helping" my mom make biscuits (doing whatever I could to get a bite of that yummy dough), and I've been looking forward to cooking with Isaac when he's ready. On Saturday, Adam was busy cutting holes in the bathroom wall and installing a pipe, so Isaac and I decided to make biscuits.
Those words you hear all your life, the ones you thought you forgot, do come back to you when you're cooking on your own - make a nest of the dry ingredients, pour in the buttermilk and mix it with a fork until the dough follows it as you stir. Knead it with your hands, but not too much, so you don't toughen the flour...Roll the dough from the middle to get it flat in every direction...
Isaac picked up none of these nuances, however. Standing on his chair at the counter, he was most excited about his own bowl of flour, spoon, and cup of water. I was hoping to at least teach him how the properties of flour change when you get it wet...Maybe he picked up on that, but it was all lost when he started grabbing handfuls of the mix and stuffing them in his mouth. I guess he likes dough.
I added the dry ingredients in the right proportion, then let Isaac stick his hands in and help me stir. He even poured in the buttermilk for me, and once the bottle seemed empty, he threw back his head and chugged the last drips. I guess he likes buttermilk too.
Isaac also loves the rolling pin, so he helped me roll out the dough. Finally, I gave him the cookie cutter and let him make "circles." He cut out a few biscuits for me (they kind of looked like the Olympics logo), and then he only wanted to eat the dough. Just like me.
Above, Isaac running away from the clean-up towel. We made an enormous mess, and that was maybe the best part.
Below, Tiger stalking the little man who smells like buttermilk...
Isaac with one of his biscuits. Still working on the clean-up...
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