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January 14, 2009
Little White Lies
About Our Friend the Biscuit
In days past, there was a great deal of utility in the
simple biscuit. You could use it to fill your belly in a way that
silenced dissent about the general poor quality of the water. If you
found yourself beset by brigands, you could use it as a weapon, since
man has yet to crack the mystery of what substance in nature is harder
than a stale biscuit.
We have advanced somewhat
today, with the simple biscuit being replaced on the front lines by more
humane weapons like nuclear missiles and chainsaws. Today, the biscuit
that sits for some time is used either as a replacement hockey puck or a
What remains is the
biscuit’s proficiency in filling your belly in a way that makes you feel
like you ate something substantial when you really only just ate wet
Science has long since
known that it is impossible to put lipstick on a pig. How many men died
to learn this has never been counted, and the belief is that the cost is
so high that no one wishes to contemplate it for fear of going stark
raving mad. Yet we are not talking about pigs, we are talking about
biscuits. And we are not trying to dress them in lipstick, but to make
them more edible.
The wet flour nature of
the biscuit is a sad truth. The biscuit, in its most basic form, is just
something wet added to flour. It is the Plain Jane of foods, an item so
homely that a kiss from a prince would turn the prince into a frog.
It may be a lie, but it
is a victimless lie. As such, is it not really more truth than lie? Men
may debate such things. Leave the question of lies, truth and whether
one is more pure evil than the other to barber chair philosophers. Our
destiny is to be a creator, a builder of things.
Start with two cups of
flour. Add about three teaspoons of baking powder. Have at the ready
half a cup of milk and five tablespoons of butter. You are now saying,
while breaking down into sobs, “Where is the lipstick? Where is the
lipstick? For the love of the children, where is the lipstick? Won’t
someone think of the children?”
Consider this the virtual
grab of your shirt and a slap in the face. Get yourself together, man.
Mix the flour and baking
soda together, and now tell yourself a little white lie about biscuits.
Add half a cup of cheddar cheese, garlic powder and a generous helping
of thyme and dried parsley.
Cut in the butter and mix
until the dough becomes crumbly. Add the milk and stir until dough
sticks together. If you must add more milk, just go ahead and do so . .
. don’t stand around, waiting for someone to give you permission.
Dollop onto a greased
cookie sheet and bake at 400 degrees for about 12 minutes. What comes
out will be soft enough to not be confused with a weapon, and tasty
enough to qualify as a little white lie.
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