Well I was south of Detroit City
I pulled in this country kitchen
To try their brand of barbecue
The sign said finger-lickin'
Well I paid the tab and the lady asked me
How'd I like my biscuit
I'll be honest with you ma'am
It ain't like mama fixed it.
-Alan Jackson, "Where I Come From"
The Irish have a saying. It goes, "Boxty in the griddle, boxty in the pan, if you can't make boxty, you'll never get your man."
We here in Oklahoma are fine and good with boxty, a traditional Irish potato pancake, but if we had a poem about how to win a man through his stomach, I'm pretty sure buttermilk biscuits would be a central theme.
