Put ramekins on a baking sheet. Bake for 25-35 minutes, until puffed and golden. Remove from oven, and let stand for 5 minutes. With a flexible spatula, remove strata to
t The Buttered Biscuit, the bigger the biscuit, the closer to heaven. “We figured if we were going to have a place called The Buttered Biscuit, the biscuits had better
t The Buttered Biscuit, the bigger the biscuit, the closer to heaven. “We figured if we were going to have a place called The Buttered Biscuit, the biscuits had better
t The Buttered Biscuit, the bigger the biscuit, the closer to heaven. “We figured if we were going to have a place called The Buttered Biscuit, the biscuits had better be good and memorable,” says Olivia Vargo, the general manager of the Waynesville restaurant. “So we decided to make them large.”
No skimping here. Vargo says that the biscuits are about five or six inches across and four inches high, weighing between six and seven ounces each. Which is a pretty darn big biscuit. Some might call it a cathead biscuit, except that, despite the common use of the term to describe size — as big as Fluffy’s head — there’s more to making them than that. Here, the dough is rolled out and cut. But traditionally, cathead biscuits are drop biscuits, which means that they’re made from a moist batter and dropped from a spoon, resulting in a biscuit that has small tufts that resemble a cat’s fur. Most of the time, though, if a menu says “cathead,” it’s referring to a smooth-topped biscuit behemoth.
There are plenty of places to get your big-biscuit fix, but The Biscuit Factory in nearby High Point offers softball-size biscuits. Over at Flo’s Kitchen in Wilson, the biscuits are almost as large as hamburger buns — the better to stuff them with savory favorites. So, who offers the state’s biggest biscuit? Well, that’s as hard to answer as which barbecue is best. Explore our biscuit roundup here!
John Champlin has traveled across the state — and the nation — in search of hard-to-find spots that serve an unforgettable hot dog. After 11 years, what he’s discovered goes way beyond the bun.
In the early 20th century, textile mill owners sponsored baseball teams, providing entertainment for their employees and nurturing a passion for the game that’s been handed down through generations of North Carolinians.
Our writer reflects on where his love of vinyl began, and how the snap, crackle, and pop of a needle sliding across a turntable will always satisfy his soul.