At the time I made this recipe, I was bunking down for the weekend at my boyfriend’s parent’s home, in their quaint, wonderful studio perched on the other end of their property, behind the pool, under the two, scaly birch trees that provide a shady canopy to a private patio. It was, and still is, a perfect writing medium. Sometimes, when the mad, hustle bustle of the city was too much, or whenever I wanted a quiet reprieve from life, this studio was my lucky haven, my go-to inspiration. Despite it being across the street from a high school, with only a rickety fence to bar any sounds from the street, this studio, splashed in its boreal forest green and berry red trim, is stunningly, almost preposterously quiet, the only sounds heard beneath the white-planked ceiling and beams, the dusty skylights and echoing through the mexican tiles is that of rustling wind, leaves scattering on the patio. When I lay on the large bed, staring out the french doors, to the jasmine bushes outside, a fire sometimes crackling in the fireplace at my head – should it be chilly enough in the winter – I can almost pretend I’m in a beach cottage, and that those faint, windy chimes outside are actually waves crashing on the beach. If almost.
It was wintertime, last time I spent a weekend there, and there was frostbite in the air – frostbite, at least, to the spoiled skin and internal temperature of a Californian. I was definitely craving something of the bread family – doughy, like a muffin or scone, or something more savory like a biscuit. In the end I settled on the biscuit, for a few reasons. One, biscuits are ridiculously easy to make; two, I was also feeling nostalgic that weekend and biscuits were the first thing I ever baked, at age 6, covered in flour in our Pennsylvania kitchen, the one with these crazy, 70′s orange cabinets; three, I was definitely leaning toward salty and savory; and four, biscuits are curiously multifaceted, able to be eaten alone, with tea, or as an accompaniment to dinner, or for breakfast the next day. Besides, that day I think my boyfriend’s mother – let’s call her Mimi – was making her famous chicken noodle soup, the one my boyfriend raves about, dreams about, and hopes one day I can make, in perfect recreation.
Mimi’s chicken noodle soup is, without question, the most over-the-top, indulgent, gratuitous, sensory overload of a soup I have ever had the pleasure of eating. Mind you, I grew up with a sparse, minimalist version of chicken soup composed of chicken stock, bits of shredded chicken, mirepoix and rice, with no seasonings to take away from the simplicity of the bare chicken flavor. It was truly medicinal, by comparison. In truth, it was literally used for medicinal purposes whenever we were struck with a cold or the flu. Mimi’s soup, with its bold, almost over-seasoned paradise, was shocking and scandalous to my palate the first time around, a scintillating, taunting strip tease of sage, thyme and oregano dancing around my tongue, along the ridges of my alveolar, and escaping into my nostrils and breath. Her recipe entails cooking an entire chicken in its own juices slowly, with generous handfuls of bay leaves and sage, salt and pepper, over the course of an entire day. She then sautees a large pile of mirepoix with the giblets and fat, with a nice chunk of butter to mellow it out, more sage – and some oregano and marjoram, for kicks – tossing the whole medley in the end with the chicken. Egg noodles are added in, and huge dollops of mashed potato (made with plenty of cream and butter, mind you) with plenty of cracked pepper complete the decadent, opulent meal. It’s a soup to remember, a soup that could only be best served with an equally opulent side. Enter the cheddar rosemary biscuit.
It’s easy to alter this recipe to your own whims, replacing the cheddar with gruyere, say, and nixing the rosemary in favor of tarragon. Or, you could use Parmesan and basil, or whatever you happen to have on hand. Though, I wouldn’t recommend using a soft cheese, like Brie, with a completely jarring herb like oregano. That’s a big no-no. Stick with the semi-hard to hard cheeses, and the softer, more complementary herbs, like rosemary, thyme and basil. I chose cheddar in this case because Chicken Noodle soup is rustic, peasant fare, and gruyere seems a bit, hmmm, pretentious for such a meal, too sharp and loud, a cheese to take center stage to pair successfully with this meal. I used an excellent, crumbly cheddar from Petaluma’s local Spring Hill Creamery, which is all at once old-school cheesy, with a heavy, laden mouthfeel, and yet silky, salty but not overly so. Rosemary works well with many cheeses, and its wooden, earthy taste with a bit of spice is in perfect harmony with anything chicken, especially Chicken Noodle soup. There’s just something so country, and down-home about cheddar cheese and rosemary in a biscuit.
Once you’ve mastered a basic drop biscuit recipe, you’ve mastered a blank slate for hundreds of different biscuits. It’s definitely a great recipe to have under your belt, alongside pie dough and chocolate chip cookies. Really, you can’t go wrong with these biscuits.
Cheddar Cheese Rosemary Biscuits
Preheat oven to 475 degrees
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. baking soda
¼ tsp. salt
1 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp fresh rosemary, minced
1 cup extra-sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
8 tbsp (one stick) unsalted butter, melted
1 cup buttermilk (or yogurt, or milk, left out for half an hour with a tbsp of lemon juice or vinegar
Melt the butter, preferably on the stovetop, then let cool for about five minutes. Add the buttermilk to the melted butter and stir – do not be deterred by the gloppy mess you’ll undoubtedly see, just set the gooey mixture in the refrigerator for another five minutes or so, to keep it thick. Combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and sugar with a whisk, then add the rosemary and shredded cheese and whisk again to disperse the cheese, coating it entirely. Pour the buttermilk mixture into the flour mixture and combine with a spatula – the whisk will just leave you tearing out your hair. Next, rub some olive oil on a ¼ measuring cup (or use cooking spray, but I prefer moistening a napkin with olive oil and rubbing it down), and use the measuring cup to drop the biscuit batter onto a baking sheet. Every two biscuits, re-oil the measuring cup to keep the biscuit dough from sticking. Bake the biscuits on the middle rack for 12 – 14 minutes until tops are golden brown and looking to-die-for. If you like those extra notes of decadence like Mimi, then be sure to brush the finished tops with extra butter before serving.
Tags: cheddar cheese, Cheddar Cheese Rosemary biscuits, cheddar rosemary biscuits, chicken noodle soup, rosemary
[...] from my tantalizing description for my Cheddar Cheese Rosemary Biscuits, it’s easy surmise that I like a good biscuit. And, I don’t like just any biscuit [...]