The Biscuit for the Bacon, Egg & Cheese You Didn’t Know You Were Missing

You should know that I always crave fast food before a float trips. Always.

Not in a guilty way. More of a Pavlovian one. Something about loading my truck in the dark, headlamps and wader bags and coffee in a Thermos, puts my brain directly in the drive-through lane. There’s a particular kind of comfort in a warm, foil-wrapped sandwich handed through a window at 5:30 in the morning. I don’t think you need to be ashamed of this. I’m not.

But here’s what I’ve learned over a few years of trips up here in the Selkirks, and for those longer hauls everywhere else: you can do better. Not fancier. Better. Like I am here at home in Idaho, you can be 75 miles from the nearest Golden Arches with something far superior tucked in your waders, next to a hot Thermos, and know, like your favorite spot, you’re one up on everyone else on the river.

But you should also know it all starts with the biscuit.

Not just any biscuit. A proper Southern-style buttermilk biscuit, made with White Lily flour, grated frozen butter, and a technique so simple it almost feels like cheating. These are the biscuits that make people stop mid-sentence. The ones that end conversations because everyone’s mouth is full and nobody’s mad about it. Once you’ve made them, you’ll wonder what you were doing all those years with whatever you were calling a biscuit before.

I generally make a batch the night before a float. By morning, the kitchen still smells like the best diner in the south. In the morning, I’ll assemble and wrap three or four in foil with the egg and bacon inside, tuck them in a bag, and we’re moving. No drive-through. No sad parking lot paper bag. Just good food, good coffee, and a river waiting.

The egg, by the way — this is where things get interesting. I’ll save the full breakdown for the follow-up piece, but I’ll tell you this: 45 seconds is all you need. The method changed how I cook eggs entirely.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

For now, trust me, just make the biscuits. I’ll share the secret to perfect on-the-go-eggs and some incredible combos. That’ll come in the next newsletter.

On this topic of baking, I’m planning to also share a series of simple bread and bread-adjacent recipes from my own experiments here at Clothespin Bakehouse and from years of feeding friends, family, and clients before and after time on the water. Focaccia, sourdough boule, ciabatta — and yes, the greatest cookie you might ever put in your mouth. But we start here. We start simple. We start with the recipe that might make you rethink every early morning you’ve ever spent in a drive-through.

Buttermilk Biscuits

Makes 8–10 biscuits

Ingredients

• 2½ cups White Lily Enriched Self-Rising Flour, plus extra for dusting

• ½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, FROZEN!

• 1 cup whole buttermilk, well chilled

• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted, for brushing

• 1 tablespoon of sugar (not required, but it’s nice)

Gear to make the job as easy as it should be

• Box grater

• Large mixing bowl

• 2½-inch biscuit cutter

• Baking sheet or cast-iron skillet

• Parchment paper

Instructions

1. Get your oven screaming hot. Preheat to 475°F. If you want a crustier exterior, go 500°F. Line your baking sheet with parchment.

2. Grate the butter. Using the large holes of your box grater, grate the frozen butter directly into the bowl of flour. Toss gently to coat the butter flakes with flour. For maximum flake, slide the whole bowl into the freezer for 10 minutes. This is not optional. This is the move.

3. Bring it together. Make a well in the center of the flour and butter mixture. Pour in the cold buttermilk. Stir with a fork — about 15 to 20 strokes — until the dough just comes together. It will be sticky. That’s correct. Walk away from the urge to keep mixing.

4. Build the layers. Turn the dough out onto a generously floured surface and flour the top as well. Gently pat into a rough rectangle, then fold it in half like you’re closing a book. Pat it back down. Do this 3 to 4 times. You’re building the layers that will pull apart beautifully at the table. Do not overwork it. Treat it like a fish you’re about to release. Or tying flies. Finesse.

5. Cut. Pat the dough to ¾-inch to 1-inch thickness. Press your cutter straight down and lift straight up — no twisting. Twisting seals the edges and kills the rise. Cut as many as you can, then gently press the scraps together if you have extra dough. You will have enough for another biscuit, which won’t be nearly as handsome, but nearly every bit as good.

6. Bake together. Arrange the biscuits on the pan so they’re touching. This is intentional. They rise up, not out, and the sides stay soft. Bake 12 to 15 minutes until they’re deeply golden on top.

7. Finish with butter. Pull them from the oven and brush immediately with the melted butter. This step is not required, but you’ll thank me later.

A Few Things Worth Knowing

White Lily is not a suggestion. White Lily is milled from soft winter wheat, which means lower protein, which means a more tender, delicate crumb than you’ll get from all-purpose flour. If you can’t find it locally, order it. It’s worth the shipping. And yeah, you can use any other brand or even bread flour or AP, but trust me, it ain’t the same.

Cold matters more than you think. The entire architecture of a great biscuit is cold butter hitting a hot oven and creating steam. Work fast, keep everything cold, and don’t let the dough sit around.

No twisting. I know I said it already. I’m saying it again.

Touching is good. They’ll look crowded in the pan. That’s exactly right.

High heat. Don’t be nervous about 475°F. That’s what gives you the rise and the color. A timid oven makes a timid biscuit.