The Baking of the President

Because I make a mean biscuit I’m the designated biscuit maker in my house.

This past weekend, Marilyn asked if we could have biscuits for breakfast. At first I said no, knowing we were running low on the mix. Then I noticed that sad, teary look in her eyes and I reconsidered. How could I deny her when she was getting emotional about this?

It wasn't till later that she told me her allergies were bothering her.

Being low on mix, I measured out enough for 2/3 of a recipe. Looking into the box I saw there wasn’t even enough to save. Throwing caution and the recipe to the wind, I dumped the remainder into the mixing bowl. Got the milk out, poured in what I needed and then a tad bit more for the extra mix. What could possibly go wrong?

As I stirred this concoction, I could tell it wasn't right. To say the dough looked dry would be like saying Death Valley is a wee bit warm during the summer. It looked like a glob of white play dough that’s been sitting in the sun way too long. Adding more milk helped some, but I began to wonder whether these would be fit to eat or better used in a rock wall I’m starting.

With trepidation, I threw the dough onto the cutting board, kneaded it a time or two and then set about cutting my biscuits. When cutting biscuits you wind up with oddly shaped fragments, such as triangles and Siamese-concave strips. Not one to be wasteful, I always gather these up and press them out by hand to make a few more to add to the pan.

After folding all these fragments together, I came up with something resembling an albino, hairless protozoa on some serious steroids. I didn’t think the slightest thing about it. I’ve ended biscuit making this way many times, so why should I? I popped the pan into the oven and shortly thereafter we were sitting down to breakfast.

There’s the unspoken need to relish my biscuits yet another day. So there’s always a few left over. Among them this day was the biscuit I formed from the leftover fragments. Looking at it with biscuit-happy eyes, Marilyn commented on how it was layered and textured, and quite interesting looking.

She sometimes wishes I was more like that.

Rising from the table, I stared down at it and was totally shocked at what I saw. On this biscuit was a face staring back at me. It was totally unplanned but still it was a face. But whose?

My initial thought was it must be a president. Not a movie-star, athlete or religious figure. I knew it had to be a president, but which one? I tried picturing it as Bush or Clinton. Neither was it Ronald Reagan nor Jimmy Carter. The biscuit lacked that sincere Carter smile. Nor did it look to have the capacity to lust after other baked goods. Then it hit me.

Gerald R. Ford.

When I uttered this, the first thing Marilyn said was, “Sell it on eBay.” Then she giggled at herself. Mind you, she was still sitting and hadn’t experienced the aerial view as I had. As I left the kitchen, I heard her say, somewhat surprised, “It does look like him.”

Why would she ever doubt anything I say?

On that day, four biscuits were leftover. Three of them would be part of some later breakfast. However, that last one was special. In the realm of presidential baked goods, I believe this last biscuit becomes, the First Biscuit. Somewhat biblical in perspective, wouldn’t you say?

The Gerald R. Ford Commemorative Biscuit is now securely sealed in the depths of our freezer, being preserved for the future. True to her jest, it could possibly end up at auction on eBay. It might not bring as much as the fabled grilled cheese sandwich with the image of the Virgin Mary on it, but it should still fetch a pretty penny nonetheless. After all, what Gerald Ford memorabilia collection could be considered complete without this one-of-a-kind piece?

Or we may just donate it to the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library, to have it displayed for the world to see. That might be a more noble thing to do, not taking money for our own personal gain, but bestowing the wealth of this work for the masses to enjoy.

Since when have I ever given a flip about nobility?

They say everything’s for sale. We may just have to see.

Correct me if I’m wrong here, won’t you, but there are Gerald R. Ford memorabilia collectors, aren’t there?

© 2006 Michael Wicinski