Perfectly golden sweet potato biscuits, a fixture on the menu since original owner Gail Umphlett opened the restaurant in 1984, have become famous in this corner of northeastern North Carolina.
These are doughnuts as they were intended to be made and eaten. They’re fresh off the fryer, crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside, and most notably: glazed and topped to order.
A fried croissant fresh from the kitchen at Burney’s Sweets & More practically glows under a halo of glaze — like a doughnut, but a little bit more everything. Crispier on the outside. Softer on the inside. And a more perfect vehicle for all kinds of fillings: cream cheese, chocolate, lemon, blueberry.
The spot with some of the best cheese biscuits on the Outer Banks has an identity problem. Its official name is Stop Quik. Some call it Miss Helen’s. To most people, it’s Biscuits N’ Porn.
Dip. Dunk. Drizzle. Over and onto fried chicken, hamburgers, and, of course, pancakes, waffles, and anything with a bready texture, the better to absorb the sugary, buttery, palomino-pony-colored “craft syrup” that is Baker’s Kitchen’s signature condiment.
The cheese biscuit, a restaurant original based on the owner’s mother’s recipe, was added in 1979 and is made with a two- to three-ounce piece of hoop cheese that’s shredded, formed into a ball, and wrapped in biscuit dough. Split the biscuit open with a fork, and the plate fills with a puddle of melted cheese.
Ah, yes, their famous biscuit. That would be one of the enormous biscuits that put, and keeps, Flo’s on the map of great Tar Heel breakfast joints. Flo’s serves cathead biscuits, so named because they are the size of a cat’s head. Given that Flo’s biscuits are the size of an outstretched hand, that’s one mighty big cat.
A dream and plenty of pastries propelled a Beaufort County baker’s business from a market stand to a historic downtown building with an abundance of charm.
In North Carolina, spring brings the scent of fresh-cut grass and memories of helping Dad mow the lawn.
Nostalgic burger joints are like time machines, delivering something extra special that keeps us coming back.
This tiny city block in downtown Greensboro once had a gigantic reputation. Not so much for its charbroiled beef patties — though they, too, were plentiful — but for its colorful characters and their wild shenanigans.
In the 1950s, as Americans hit freshly paved roads in shiny new cars during the postwar boom, a new kind of restaurant took shape: the drive-in. From those first thin patties to the elaborate gourmet hamburgers of today, North Carolina has spent the past 80 years making burger history.
