FROM SCRATCH

Fresh. 

Hot ‘n steamy from the oven. 

Scratch biscuits.

Can’t you smell them right now?

Filling the whole damn kitchen 

With essence of buttermilk and baking powder.

Smothered in butter and honey,

There’s nothing in the world like ‘em.

To make them, some say’s easy.

Make ‘em right? Not so much. 

You sure can’t order them online,

Or grab from the refrigerated section, 

Or pour the powder out of a box,

Can’t even buy ‘em at a bakery.

No, ‘cause the secret’s in the scratch.

And the scratch is in you.

It’s the you that’s doing it. It’s you all in.

Hands in the batter, mind in the matter.

Yes, you need a recipe--best if passed down--

And, of course, the ingredients. On hand.

Leave something out? Well, now you're in trouble. 

Substitutions or add ins are tricky, too. 

Just smidgen of religion to spring you off the blocks,  

And a picture of the ribbon at the finish line, 

Maybe even a memory or two of Grandma along the way, 

Then pop ‘em in the oven, bake till goldilocks gold.

Oh, there’s one thing for sure though: Scratch takes time.

Nothing worse than half-baked anything, right?

You gotta “W a i t . . . f o r . . . i t!”

Meanwhile, make the coffee.

Do some sudoku, play with the dog, write a poem.

In the end, biscuit in hand, the “all in” is worth it. 

Delightful in the alpha, delicious in the omega. 

The whole thing sounds a lot like life, doesn’t it?

Only one way to do it.

From scratch.