In Praise of Grandma’s Biscuits and Eggs
I like Wild Eggs. So I was delighted to hear that J.J. Kingery would be preparing a special brunch at the James Beard House. I was not so delighted, however, when Ken Neuhauser described the brunch in the Courier Journal as “not your Southern Grandma’s biscuits and eggs.”
While it is true that my grandmother would never have served Alaskan King crab-stuffed devil eggs or put shaved white truffles on her potato hash, it doesn’t mean her breakfasts were any less impressive. Her eggs didn’t come from a 10,000 acre farm with over three million hens but instead they were fresh daily from the free range chickens in her backyard. The bacon cut from hogs she fed and cared for herself, and the fluffy buttermilk biscuits were made fresh in her kitchen daily.
I don’t think she would have understood someone paying $125 per ounce for a truffle. Nor would she have understood serving a pomegranate mimosa. Black hot coffee would do just fine and could also be used for the red eye gravy to serve up with the country ham.
Grandmother understood that fresh food as close to the farm as it can get stands in a class of its own. Sometimes you just have to let the food speak for itself.
I hope Kingery has a blast at the James Beard House. I might celebrate with him by frying an egg in some butter and slathering a little extra apple butter on my biscuits that day. Grandmother would be proud. And when he gets back I’ll stop by Wild Eggs for his version as well. Who knows? I might even swap out a little champagne for my usual black coffee.