Sausage Biscuits

Sausage biscuits always brings to mind memories growing up. When we would visit my grandma Rosie in Texas each summer, she would always cook up a feast of food. None of which us kids would eat. Well, we didn't want to, anyway. She was already in her 80s, still living by herself and just a jolly ol' soul of a woman. We would all love visiting with her in her little apartment because she was just a hoot. Her food however was not that which kids would eat. We dreaded that part of the visit. Being a Southerner, there was always food. It was always on the stove, sitting there for Lord knows how long. When she would put it on a plate for you, she would slap it all together. Kids don't like things all mixed up in a goop. My mom would whisper to us "You have to eat it" in that gentle voice of hers. I guess we would. I have no memories of eating that "good junk" as grandma would call it. However, when it came time for us to pack the car up and head back North, she would always make us a big batch of sausage biscuits and wrap each one in a napkin and put them in a bucket of some sort, normally a big gallon margarine bucket. (Who buys a gallon of margarine?) To this day, I can think of nothing tasting as good as one of those sausage biscuits on the road when my father would refuse to stop because "we were making good time." Thank you grandma for saving our little bellies so many times.

Then there's Aunt Mary, one of my mom's sisters in Georgia. Every time we would visit, up until several years ago when she was in her 90s and still living on her own, she would cook up a country breakfast each and every morning. Now, Aunt Mary was not one to get up early--suppose I get the gene from that side of the family--but she would when we were there. No matter how many of us bombarded her house, she would cook a country breakfast fit for a king and his castle. The entire castle. If it were just me and the kids, it would still be the same amount at which time we all would stuff ourselves in honor of all the good food she had cooked. I would do the same as my mom before me, "You have to eat it." My voice, probably not so gentle. I remember her in the kitchen cooking that sausage up. Mom would try and help and she was always behind her (as still the big sister 70 years later) showing mom how to squish all the grease out of the sausage. There isn't anything close to waking up at Aunt Mary's smelling the sausage and biscuits cooking. Again, such wonderful memories.

The kid and I were doing a little grocery shopping yesterday and came upon this luscious looking bulk breakfast sausage. The kid and nanna love sausage; so how could I resist? I cooked it up this morning, remembering Aunt Mary's delicious breakfasts and Grandma Rosie's sweet send offs. It was a nice way to start the day with so many memorable moments with loved ones who are no longer with us. I miss having aunts and uncles and grandmothers to look up to.

Guess I'm one of the elders now. Cringe. How scary is that?