Let's say for the sake of argument that you've been drinking. For a day or two. Possibly three. It's the holidays (which you loathe), you've been hanging out with family (who loooove themselves some holiday cheer), and your home borough (hundreds of miles away and to the North) has suffered a snowpocalypse that has inspired every national newscaster to tell you, with no small measure of glee that all your worldly possessions, neighbors and colleagues have likely been consumed by yeti. (So sorry.)
You probably would not mind a biscuit. Oh, who are we kidding? In order to survive the next hour of your life, you're going to require the ingestion of a biscuit roughly the size of a hassock, ideally with some manner of viciously salty pork nestled within its floury depths.
And you ride along, sniveling and biscuitless in the Jeep's passenger seat until oh sweet mother of lard, out of the snow-flecked distance there rises Biscuitville. You know this Biscuitville. You love Biscuitville. It is without pretense or artifice. There's no hemming or hawing over clever breakfast panini, croissants or perhaps I'll have the brioche...oh wait...make it a low-carb wrap...
None of that. It's going to be a biscuit and it's not going to be herb-flecked or heirloom-cheesed or precious in any way. It's going to be kneaded into submission by a task-oriented woman with linebacker biceps who has made fifty million biscuits this morning alone and she's got fifty million more to make before supper. She's not going to make your biscuit with love, but she will make it with skill, and skill like that is hard to come by.
Plus the sign outside proclaimed, calloo callay, that "BOLOGNA IS BACK!" You'd had no idea it had gone away and you almost pause for a moment in regret that you couldn't more acutely feel the bliss of its return. But then you come to your senses, gnaw at the mass of it like a crazed badger, get crumbs all over the floor mat and drive on North.
I don't like bologna, but I loved reading this article. Great job.
Everybody talks about lard as if it's a bad thing. Not to say it's a health food, but fresh lard has a healthier fat profile (a larger percentage of mono- and polyunsaturated fats) than butter and is way better than hydrogenated "vegetable shortening" (like Crisco), margarine, and many other cooking fats that are not routinely shunned by the ignorant and prejudiced. It also makes vastly superior biscuits. (And pastries. And fried chicken. I could go on.)
Unfortunately, the lard you usually find in grocery stores is artificially hydrogenated, as well, to make it firmer and increase it's shelf life. I've read that all-natural lard is making a comeback now that people have become disillusioned with hydrogenated fats. So far, the renaissance isn't much in evidence in my neighborhood, but you can make your own.
Anyway, if you can acquire some high grade lard, White Lily flour, and buttermilk, you might be able to turn out a biscuit worthy of your great-granny.
We have one in Garner, NC now too!
Wow, does this ever take me back. How I miss my long-lost Carolina days when I hit Biscuitville in Greensboro for a chicken biscuit at least once a week. And don't get me started on fried baloney sandwiches (on buttered toast), or my long-ago favorite after-school snack: baloney on white bread with mustard. Good times!
I haven't been to a Biscuitville, but when going through WV a couple of summers ago my fiance had us stop off at a Tudor's Biscuit World.... oh gods my arteries harden in the delicious memory of that wonderful biscuit and thick slice of country ham sandwich.
Nothing quite like it up here in Upstate NY. *sigh*... although the cardiologists up here probably appreciate that it's not a thing here!
There is also a Biscuitville in Fayetteville/Spring Lake just on the coat tails of Ft. Bragg. You can belly up to the counter and git' yer pork on there too girl. But I've always preferred Fuquay-Varina's name.
To the author – you must have stopped at the Biscuitville in Fuquay-Varina... And yes, sometimes bologna does go away, but it always comes back and is more delicious than ever.
It was Burlington, NC, and I am considering building a tunnel there from Brooklyn.
As a proud son of Wake Forest, I have visited the Biscuitville in Fuquay-Varina, but more often hit the ones in the far-more-prosaically-named Raleigh.
Prefer my mom's, though - I think she used James Beard's recipe.
I should dig up the photo of the fried-bologna-and-cheese-and-pickle sandwich I got on a hamburger bun at a dirt track in Eastern Virginia, though. Wonderful.
Now we know what happened to you! LOL I love me some biscuit, especially with some pork in between those flaky layers. I don't know how my granny did it (long gone sigh), but they were the best. But you are now evil as I've vowed to not partake in the new year...for now!
Oh, Kat. I love every word of this. Makes me miss my grandma's lard-laden biscuits so very much. She stopped making them in the late 80s, right about the time my mom stopped making us fried bologna sandwiches for breakfast. Something to do with the new healthy eating, I imagine. I think I'll call her tomorrow and see if we can't arrange a biscuit revival.
Lila, my friend - I'm calling for a grand return of the Biscuit Mission. Call your mom!
Grand return it is! I wonder if a group of us might hunker down on iReport and make it a party. Calling mom ... (thanks for the inspiration!)
A fresh biscuit is something of a rarity for us Northern folks, but I must say ,here in Pittsburgh we enjoy bologna, or as we call it, "Jumbo." For me personally, fried garlic bologna with egg, a little hot sauce on Mancini's toast is our version of this southern sandwich. Perhaps next time I drive south, I will stop by our sandwich's country cousin called Biscuitville. Thanks for posting.
Bologna is so very under-sung. Let's make that not the case!
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