Meet Ova Lee: Our Beautiful Great Granny, Maker of Magic Biscuits

Look at her face. It’s pretty amazing. I’ve always loved her thick, wavy white hair and her soulful brown eyes. An old soul. One of my very favorites. If you’ve met her, you know she was a Southern sweet pea.

Ova Lee Burgess, in Her TN Kitchen

Her ‘lil hands told silent stories of hard work; one of her fingernails had a split from when she ran her finger under a sewing machine while working. We used to have hair and manicure dates, which I loved. I had so much fun styling her great hair and painting her nails.

I’d dry her hair all wonky at first, in what I now know is a faux-hawk, and then I’d use the round brush to make those big curls delightful. I don’t remember a manicure during which she didn’t grumble about that pesky machine messin’ up her nail. She didn’t grumble much, but that split made her sassy.

She and our great grandpa Bud had amazing gardens in their back yard, and she always canned vegetables. Her daughter Elise (my mama’s mom) also had great gardens and canned. Elise made dill pickles — I’m pretty sure hers are the root of our family’s love of them. Bread and butter pickles? Eh. I’ll eat ’em sometimes. HotPants thinks I’m whack for not loving them. But dill? Yes please.

Elise Burgess (Gray) and Ova Lee Burgess

L to R, back: William Henry Johnson (Ova's father), Art and Elmer (Ova's sister) Real, Ova Lee, Elise, and Bud L to R, front: Mama and Aunt Cathy

Mama said Chris, my brother, was Elise’s official Pickle Tester. He’d go to the basement and take a pickle out of the barrel for taste testing. How awesome is that?!

I remember having a Snickers bar and a Pepsi at her house…and I remember eating fantastic meals there…and I remember loving to see all the colors in the jars for everything she canned. But I don’t remember the pickle testing. We lost Elise too soon; I was 7, I think. Chris was 12. And 6 months later, we lost Bud too soon. Thus began an even closer, more wonderful relationship with our great granny Ova Lee.

When we’d visit her in Cookeville, TN, she’d be up before the roosters to make breakfast: eggs, fried apples, biscuits, sausage, etc. I remember thinking, “Really, we have to get up right now for breakfast?” because a 7:30 a.m. rising time seemed insane during vacation. We did get up, and every bite was so delicious. Ova would sit at the table smiling. She was magical to me.

I. Love. Biscuits.

Ova would send leftover biscuits and sausage with us, so we’d have road snacks. Sausage and biscuit sandwich? Quite possibly the best road snack ever. Though HotPants might argue that beef jerky is the clear winner.

Ova would stand at the end of the sidewalk with teary eyes, waving to us while we waved back until we couldn’t see her from so far down the street. Even though I knew she’d be in OH to spend the winter with us soon, I remember being teary on many occasions about leaving her there alone. She had brothers and a niece nearby but in my mind, she was ours — I wanted her with us. Things just seemed right that way.

We lost her 10 years ago this month.

I’ve been missing her a lot lately. She made so many great meals, but her biscuits (and bacon gravy!) have always been one of my favorite comfort foods. Making biscuits always reminds me of her.

So I decided to make biscuits while we’re in MI.

The local store doesn’t carry White Lily self-rising flour — my favorite flour for biscuits. I felt pretty violated about making Ova’s biscuits with Gold Medal self-rising flour. They tasted good, but they didn’t have the same soft, fluffiness factor as the biscuits we make with White Lily. And they weren’t as moist. I added almost 1/4 more buttermilk than I usually use, and I still thought they were kinda dry. This just in: I’m a flour snob. (We’ve since picked up some White Lily in a larger town nearby. Victory!)

Peach Freezer Jam August 29, 2011

I also decided it would be fun to make peach freezer jam to eat with the biscuits. We found some fantastic local peaches, and I conned HotPants into helping me. He peeled peaches and washed the 4-oz. quilted jars we bought at the local grocery store. I couldn’t wait to make biscuits the next morning for taste testing.

Technically, we weren’t in a biscuit eating contest. But we didn’t know that as we repeatedly jammed (get it? bwuhahahaheee.) them into our faceholes.

Want to try the best biscuits in the universe?

Check it:

Biscuit Fixins: Self-Rising Flour, Buttermilk, and Butter

2 c. self-rising flour

1 c. buttermilk (more if needed for moist dough)

1 stick butter, cubed

Heat your oven to 400 degrees. Do not grease your baking sheet, or whatever you bake them on/in. Mama makes hers in a cast iron skillet, just like Ova Lee. They’re delicious that way.

I find it’s helpful to have the baking sheet within reach before I start making biscuits. I’ve had one-too-many instances in which I’m messy from dough and realize I’ve yet to remove the baking business from its hiding spot.

In a medium size bowl, work the butter into the flour w/a pastry cutter (or fork) until the pieces are small. I usually work it until the pieces are smaller than a pea.

Add the buttermilk and stir the ingredients just until they’re combined. The dough should be fairly wet. If it seems dry, add a bit more buttermilk.

Sprinkle some flour on your work surface, and dump the dough onto it. Lightly sprinkle flour on top of the dough, and rub a bit between your hands to help prevent sticking while you work the dough.

Work the dough with the flour until it isn’t sticky anymore. It shouldn’t take long, and should feel soft like a baby’s booty.

Pat the dough to your desired thickness; I usually do a good 3/4 inch, because I love tall biscuits. I use a medium size biscuit cutter, which works pretty well.

En Route to the Oven!

Cut the biscuits, and place them on the baking sheet. For softer biscuits, I place them against each other (as in the picture above). For biscuits with browner edges, I place them about 1/4 inch apart.

I’ll probably make a lot of biscuits this month, in honor of ‘lil Ova Lee.

You should make some too, in honor of your facehole.