My maternal grandmother passed in 1972 and I still fondly remember her "cat head" biscuits. She always kept her bread making implements consisting of a large bowl carved out of a solid piece of poplar (which I now have) and a maple rolling pin on her kitchen counter. That bread bowl was always filled with white flour and covered with a cloth when not being used. When ready to make a pan of biscuits she'd hollow out a space in the flour, add a glob of lard, butter milk, salt, and maybe some other stuff (?); mix it all up and make those fist-sized biscuits. She'd always have a pan of biscuits atop the stove when us kids got home from school; so we'd get a biscuit, punch a hole in the side with our finger, then fill it with sorghum syrup or with whatever home made jam or jelly she had at the time. They were delicious; but in all honesty, as a kid I never understood how much to appreciate my grandmother and her biscuits till long after she was gone. But I do have those cherished memories.
