52:9 | Success

Metadata: f/5.6, /13 sec, ISO 400

Biscuits. Ugh. 

I am not a Top Chef. In fact, though I would argue to be a Top-Eater, I have zero culinary credentials, outside of pancakes from a box and my self-proclaimed-cake-mix-royalty. I love to eat my husband's wonderful cooking, and I've tried several times to match his prowess in finding the precise taste that makes those mouth watering dinners. I've had some luck (mostly thanks to my outstanding wedding gadgets, that I'm still sticking stamps on in order to send out). But biscuits.... Grr.

Korey & I started this biscuit endeavor in Danville, when we were waking up early with an almost-2-year-old who began sleeping in a bed instead of a crib. Breakfast usually consisted of cinnamon rolls and cereal, but last spring we began to branch out. In a southern state, we tried biscuits and gravy. Gravy was a win... biscuits were an e.p.i.c. fail. Let's just say they made great building blocks for Lucas and little else. We used buttermilk in hopes that it would make them tasty... fail. They didn't rise, they were unbreakable, and we were left with half a container of buttermilk with no use for it. We tried again a few weeks later... same fail.

Since then, we bought the frozen variety and ate those pre-made delights for family dinners in Nashville -- having day jobs that don't require weekends (minus my coaching at the YMCA) has made for amazing family memories around the dinner table. Homemade biscuits have yet to be invited to that party.

Two weekends ago, I thought: I can do this! So I busted out the Mac, Googled a simple recipe, and to work I went. I had all the ingredients in the bowl (minus the shortening) and thought... hmm... this seems like a lot of salt for a recipe. I shrugged, and dumped the 1 cup in there...

Now. I know I've been trained as a Reading Specialist. I realize that I teach reading and English. I understand that I'm a huge grammar and book nerd. Comprendo. The recipe I thought called for 1 cup of salt, in fact called for 1 tablespoon. Fail. Again. Except this time, I was determined. I scooped out as much as I could out of the bowl and prayed that it would do the trick. I rolled out the dough, cut 'em out, and baked away. Drum roll please.... salty hockey pucks. Ugh. I love my husband for his ability to choke down these failures, but we laughed out loud at the inedible sea-biscuits and poured two bowls of cereal to match the toddler. Fail.

My point is obvious, I'm sure. If you want to succeed, you can't give up until you get it. One year in the making, we finally had success with today's breakfast biscuits. Granted, they didn't rise nearly as much as the recipe said they would, but they were edible, soft (ish) and warmly welcomed with homemade cinnamon butter. Praises were shouted, dances were had, and feast we did. Joy of joys! 

Success feels AMAZING after all of those failures. The same is true with those successes outside the kitchen. Like that student who doesn't "get it" for 5 months and then earns a perfect score on his spelling test. Or the plan you've been trying to enact since last summer that finally becomes routine. Or the potty-training of a two year old boy. Still working on that, but celebrate successful moments, we do! 

Success, however you measure it, cannot happen without those stepping stones of failure. 

This week I'm reminded to cherish those moments of failure by celebrating their successes. With biscuits, of course. ;o) <3