Hot Biscuits, Hot Biscuits!
My Aunt Gloria was one of the most elegant and fancy people I know. She loved to host dinner parties. Now, I come from a sophisticated family, but Aunt Gloria was the only one I know who would serve caviar. Everything with her was about elegance. She was down to earth, but she had a deep love for the finer things in life.
Now my Uncle Danny—he was the first Black person in New Rochelle to own a car dealership, V.I.P. Lincoln Mercury. He was sophisticated too, but he had this loud, funny, boisterous side that would take over a room.
I’ll never forget coming home from the March of Dimes marathon with my Aunt Patsy. Aunt Gloria was throwing one of her signature dinner parties. I remember she served this shrimp with tomato sauce—it was so good. Everything was fancy, just like her.
Then it was time for the biscuits.
All of a sudden, Uncle Danny comes bursting out of the kitchen with a tray of piping hot biscuits, shouting at the top of his lungs:
“Hot biscuits are coming! Hot biscuits!”
My Aunt was mortified. That did not go with her classy dinner theme.
But he didn’t stop—he just kept yelling:
“Hot biscuits, everybody! Hot biscuits!”
It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. I still laugh out loud when I think about it.
That memory is gold.
Thank you, Uncle Danny.
“Hot Biscuits, Hot Biscuits!”
With love,
Ke’Shawn
