iPol

Riding Shotgun

2013-06-07T02:07:25Z

Have you heard this song? Drama. Turn that *&$ing radio up. You can't NOT sing along. "I just want to feel this moment."

We have heard this song. Over. And over. Wyatt is Mr. Top 40 these days. (Plus John Mayer. Cute. John Mayer is for 40 year olds.) I told Yancey Maroon 5's Overexposed album will always remind me of Wyatt's fourth grade year. I already imagine listening to it after he's gone away to college, lying on the floor and bawling. Drama.

My father-in-law has been in the hospital for some work on his heart. He's going to be okay, but it's been a strange week. I can't help but be reminded of how perilous life is, how little control we have, and that "the lie of tomorrow" is exactly that. All we have is now.

Wyatt and I were driving home from the hospital the other night and he talked me into riding shotgun. He likes to be in charge of channel surfing, rattling off song titles, artists, and singing along. This song came on, Wyatt turned it up, and something about the moment put me in touch with my essence, the sensation of being alive and embodied.

I felt that my body was tired and hot. I felt Wyatt's presence next to me and the complete preciousness of every one of his limbs--all the scratches and bruises from biking, the bug bites from bonfires in the back yard. I felt my fear and sadness around Wayne's suffering and hospital stay. I felt satisfaction in the conflicts I helped mediate at work this week. I felt the wind through the window and noticed all the drivers around me, doing their best in their lives just like I am. I felt pain in my lower back and irritation that I'd been in the car so much. I felt anxious about the dog being left alone for so long and expectation about what might be in the mailbox.

One of the meditation books I'm reading pokes fun at our need to "share" about what we experience. This blog post is a prime example. Somehow, the moment feels more complete if I remember it this way. I'm learning that awareness is intense and sometimes painful, but it's a whole lot better than not being aware. As one of the mystics says, the deepest me is God. There's no reason to fear going deeper.

Our family is about to launch into an unusually crazy week. My hope is to be present in all the coming and going, notice anxieties as they crop up, and find transformative moments in the middle of it all. I hope the same for you.

Everything an Oatmeal Cookie Should Be

2013-05-27T16:35:50Z

I have finally found it--the perfect, crave-it oatmeal raisin cookie. Chewy, moist, crispy around the edges. Thanks to Alice (Medrich), of course. And thanks to the continuing inspiration of my big, fat cookie jar from the antique mall. It really looks forlorn when it's empty.

For his birthday, I gave my father-in-law a jar of these and told him I'd refill the jar indefinitely with whatever he wanted. I gave him lots of choices this time around--brown butter snickerdoodles, molasses, salted chocolate. But he said he wanted oatmeal raisin again. This time, I was smart and made a double batch.

Emily was supposed to come up last weekend. We've been planning it for a long time and had characteristically assembled little collections of gifts and hand-me-downs to exchange. We'd been sending anticipation texts, and Loretta spruced up her room. (That's where Emily sleeps when she comes.) But it didn't work out. We are both sad, but it was the right thing. And the silver lining, as I told her, was that I still felt like she was here and that my regular life was on hold. I didn't check email. I played lots of card games with Wyatt. We went to the farmers market, the Ski to Sea parade, and the street fair. I made pancakes twice for the kids and am halfway through two new books. I sorted my craft supplies, slept in, made and photographed these cookies, and put off folding the laundry. Yancey and I managed a last-minute afternoon date and I exercised every day. In short, just what the doctor ordered.

I hope you're able to find some time like that soon. You might even find yourself reaching for your mixing bowls.

Oatmeal Raisin Cookies
As with many of Alice's recipes, you've got to think ahead with these so you can refrigerate the dough. It helps the oats soak up the butter and makes all the difference. I doubled the batch and did half dark raisins and half golden raisins. You could also add nuts, other dried fruit, or a bit of flaked salt on top. Yum.

2 c. rolled oats
1/4 c. water
1 1/4 c. flour
1/2 tsp. soda
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
2 sticks unsalted butter
3/4 c. packed brown sugar
1/2 c. granulated sugar
1 tsp. vanila
1/2 tsp. salt
1 large egg
1 c. raisins

Place the oats in a small bowl and sprinkle with water. Combine the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, and nutmeg in a medium bowl and mix together thoroughly with a whisk or fork.

Cut the butter into chunks and melt in a large saucepan over medium heat. Remove from the heat and stir in the sugars, vanilla, and salt. Add the egg and stir briskly. Stir in the flour mixture just until all the dry ingredients are moistened. Stir in the raisins and oats. Let the dough sit in the fridge for at least 2 hours or preferably overnight.

Preheat the oven to 350. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and position oven racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven.

For large cookies, scoop about 2 level tablespoons of dough and place the cookies about 3" apart on the lined pans. For small cookies scoop 1 level tablespoon of dough. Bake for 12-15 minutes for large cookies and 10-12 minutes for small ones, or until the cookies are just barely golden on top and they still look a tad undone. Rotate the pans from top to bottom and from front to back halfway through the baking time.

Cool the cookies completely before storing or stacking.

Cooking a Pot of Beans

2013-05-25T14:33:31Z

Yesterday I sat in my spiritual director's office and cried for an hour.

I told her I'd been wanting to cry about Oklahoma all week, and then the I-5 bridge collapsed. Yancey and I both cross that bridge several times a week, and we'd been on it Wednesday morning.

I won't be scared to cross bridges in the future or scared to drive. But I am thinking about the fragility and unpredictability of life. I'm thinking about the illusion of control I love to nurture and how much comfort I take in my plans.

And then I hear Jack Kornfield saying:

"The unawakened mind tends to make war against the way things are."

Things are messy, unclear, unfair. They're unpredictable and often beautiful. Things are sad, violent, and hard. They're also heartbreakingly tender and full of possibility. And the challenge for all of us (especially for my orderly self) is to accept what is. Our home has not been devastated by a tornado, but our commutes to work south of us may be increased by several hours a day for a year until the bridge gets fixed. My spiritual director said, "What if you think of the bridge collapse as the collapse of your ideas about God and yourself that aren't working for you anymore?"

I've found I haven't had bandwidth this week for much beyond daily tasks and feeling sad. I haven't felt motivated to blow through my to-do list or start anything new. Instinctively, I knew this week was a "pot of beans" week. When I dumped the pinto beans into a bowl to soak, just the sound of them falling out of the jar was comforting. I know exactly what to do with them, I know my family will be nourished for days, and I know we'll be able to devote our energies to things other than cooking for awhile.

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you know my attachment to dried beans. I'm a huge fan and seem to have endless energy for cooking them and advocating for them. I always come across folks who need an introduction, though. They've never cooked them before and are unsure how those hard little legumes become soft and flavorful. So I thought I'd stop saying, "Oh, just soak 'em and boil 'em" and give a little more instruction. (I love you "measure-twice-cut-once" folks. I'm not one of you.)

The most common way my family eats beans is pinto beans over rice (or roasted potatoes or corn bread) with condiments--shredded cheese and cabbage, salsa, finely chopped onions and peppers, chopped kale, hot sauce, crushed tortilla chips, sometimes a fried egg . I set all the condiments in the middle of the table, and we each do it our own way. Wyatt mixes his rice and beans together, then adds salsa and sometimes cheese. Loretta keeps her rice and beans separate and puts hoisin sauce on her rice. Yancey and I take a lot of vegetables and keep the whole bowl layered. And we'll eat this for several nights in a row until the beans are gone. My kids have never tired of it.

Pot of Beans
This "recipe" is from Mark Bittman. Since I've never followed any instructions for cooking beans, I didn't trust myself to describe it properly! He gives lots of options for soaking or not soaking, which is the biggest question people seem to have. The reason for soaking is simply to decrease the cooking time. I do it when I've thought ahead. When I haven't thought ahead, I don't soak. Some people say it decreases the flatulence factor of beans, though I can't say I've found that to be true. If your tummy has trouble with beans, there are at least 3 remedies. The first is, don't undercook your beans! They won't taste good and they'll be hard for your body to digest. The second is to eat beans more often. Your body will get used to digesting them. And the 3rd is to take an enzyme like Beano.

If you buy your beans in bulk at a co-op or other place where they have high turnover in their dry goods, they will be fresher and will cook more quickly. If you buy them in pre-packaged and labeled bags at the grocery store, they will likely be older and take longer to cook. They don't go bad or taste worse--they are just more hard.

1 pound dried beans, washed and picked over (any kind but lentils, split peas, or peeled and split beans)
Water, salt, and pepper

Soaking: You can soak your beans overnight if you think of it. Or "quick soak" them by putting the beans in a large pot and covering them with a couple inches of cold water. Bring the beans to a boil and boil for 2 minutes. Cover the pot with a tight-fitting lid and let them soak for 1-2 hours. Or you can not soak them at all. They'll take a bit longer to cook.

Cooking. If you've soaked your beans, drain them, and cover again with 2 inches of cold water. Bring the pot to a boil, then adjust the heat so the beans bubble gently. Partially cover and cook, stirring every now and then, checking the beans for doneness every 20 minutes or so, and adding more water as necessary. Small beans might take as little as 30 minutes and older, larger beans up to 90 minutes.

Seasoning. Add salt and pepper when the beans are just turning tender. Stop cooking when the beans are done the way you like them and taste and adjust the seasoning.

Storing. Here you have a few options. Drain the beans (reserving the liquid separately) to use them as ingredients or salads or other dishes where they need to be dry. Or finish them with one of the ideas below. Or store the beans as is and use with or without the liquid as needed. They will keep in the fridge for days and in the freezer for months.

Adding Flavor. You can add a bay leaf, peppercorns, thyme sprigs, parsley leaves and stems, chili powder, or other herbs and spices. You can sauté chopped onion, carrot, celery or garlic until soft and fragrant and add them in. You can add a cup of beer or wine. Or cook your beans with a ham hock, pork chop, beef bone, or sausage. Fish it out after cooking, chop up the meat, and stir it back into the beans.

Almost-Fresh Salsa

2013-05-15T21:40:00Z

Here is the dilemma:

Our family goes through a lot of salsa, mostly because one of the sacred rites around here is Sunday night nachos. (You should try it. 10 minutes, everyone loves it, and it's sometimes in front of the TV. Heaven.) I hate chopping and seeding mealy tomatoes in the winter. It's a lot of work for a disappointing result. There is some delicious fresh salsa out there, but the kind I really like is $6 for a small tub! Wyatt and Yancey would slurp that in 10 seconds. And canned salsa has never floated my condiment boat. Too sweet, flat, or weird.

Enter "Almost-Fresh Salsa," a recipe given to me by Emily who got it from her ex-boyfriend who got it from his Mom. And you guessed it--it uses canned tomatoes. I cannot keep enough canned tomatoes in the house. I've heard the packaging makes them bad for you, but have plugged my ears on that public service announcement. You only live once, right? If I don't smoke or eat fast food, I can be crazy and use canned tomatoes.

This salsa meets my criteria of tasting good. Who cares if something is fresh but it tastes like crap! Or if it's "all natural" but you can only choke down a spoonful. About to step onto a soapbox here, but some of the recipes floating around on Pinterest or Foodgawker look absolutely awful. I'd rather have a banana for every meal than concoct some of the "good-for-you" things out there. (Speaking of bananas and Pinterest, this post is really funny.)

And if you have a salsa soapbox, you know I'd love to hear about it.

Almost-Fresh Salsa
If you double or tripe this recipe (not a bad idea), don't double or triple the garlic. It will inedible the next day. Maybe add just a tiny bit more. And you'll notice this doesn't have any lime. The acidity balance is perfect without it.

1 28 oz. can whole tomatoes, drained
1 seeded jalapeno (or to taste)
1 garlic clove
big handful chopped fresh cilantro
1/4 c. finely sliced green onions
coarse salt

In the bowl of a food processor (or by hand), chop the garlic and jalapeno. Add the drained tomatoes and pulse a few times until salsa reaches desired consistency (slightly chunky, not a puree.) Remove tomato mixture from bowl and add cilantro, green onion, and salt to taste.

Biggest Bang for your Buck

2013-05-13T17:00:49Z

Wyatt (finally) got a haircut yesterday. All night and all morning, I'm doing double-takes. Who is that handsome kid? And why can I finally see those big brown eyes?

Got me thinking about the great deal a haircut is. 20 minutes, $15, and you've got transformation. And thinking about other bargains in my life--a little bit of effort for a lot of happiness, perspective, or productivity. Things like:

Meditation. 20 minutes a day in exchange for the ability to be more present to myself and others.
A night stand big enough to hold books and flowers.
Sending or receiving a card in the mail.
Back-up jars of peanut butter and olive oil.
Having prints made of photos.
Remembering people's names.

What are the bargains in your life right now?

Salted Chocolate Cookies with Ginger and Coconut

2013-05-11T14:36:01Z

These really are worth reading about. Stay on the line.

As you must know by now, food is the way for me to talk about everything else. And since tomorrow is Mother's Day, I've got a few things on my mind.

As I've become a mother, I have really mixed feelings a about Mother's Day. I look forward to the cards my kids make me, and if I'm lucky Wyatt will write me a poem. I look forward to lounging around in the morning and sometimes reminiscing about having babies or what life was like before half my budget went to Target.

But...

There should be a Women's Day instead of Mother's Day. A day to honor whatever thoughtful choices we have made in our lives.

Deciding not to be a mother is full of integrity. And brave. Our culture puts so much emphasis--overtly and subtly--on motherhood as the fulfillment of womanhood. I have been blessed, over and over again, by women in my life who are not mothers. They have more energy for their work in the world. They're less distracted, and they have a lot of love left for my children!

Longing for motherhood and not experiencing it is painful. I don't know about this firstand (2 weeks from decision to fertilization in this household!), but I know from listening and being with lots of women. I've learned never to be cavalier about it or assume anything. Everyone's got a story, and some of them are full of pain and broken dreams.

The maternal spirit comes in many forms. It comes with godmothers and godfathers. It comes with anyone who lovingly takes care of children for a living or as a favor. It comes whenever there's care for a dying, sick, or disabled person. It comes in how we connect with and care for our pets. In the Buddhist way, what would happen if we saw ourselves as mother to everyone AND saw everyone in our community as mother to us? A lot of love going around. And you don't have to actually be a mother to experience that.

My children don't owe me anything. I don't need to be thanked for bringing them into the world--that was my choice, not theirs! They didn't ask to be born. I've always said that the decision to have children can be construed as selfish, and the decision not to have children can be construed as selfish. The truth is that all of us are just caught up in the mystery of living and we are doing the best we can.

The biggest reward of motherhood is relationship. And that can come in so many ways beside motherhood! No matter how it comes, it's still something we have to choose every day. I could co-habitate with my children, feed and clothe them, AND go to all their soccer games and still not really be in relationship with them. You can be a loving aunt on the other side of the country and REALLY have relationship if you're intentional. Surprise! Intention is the key. Having needy, dependent creatures that come from your own body might be the shortcut to relationship because I don't have to coordinate anything to see them! There are so many ways to have deep, intentional relationship with children or others in our lives, but it all requires work.

Happy Mother's Day to everyone. Every one of us is a son or daughter. Every one of us came from a mother and is going back to our Mother. Maybe you've landed on work that has exposed and deepened your maternal spirit. Maybe you've sat with the dying. Maybe you've negotiated a difficult relationship with your Mother and come out the other side, more reflective and more interesting. Or maybe you're nursing a newborn as you read this, and there are absolutely no words to describe how raw and how "yourself" that feels.

Happy Mother's Day to my mom. Thank you for all the beautiful picnics our family went on, and your love of suprises. Thank you for being there when my children were born and throwing your love and energy into grandparenthood. Thank you for your great style, your appreciation of beauty, and bringing the party with you wherever you go. I love you.

Happy Mother's Day to these cookies. How's that for a transition? I really wouldn't mind being a direct descendent of these chewy, spicy, expletive-worthy morsels. That wouldn't be a bad lineage. And, fittingly, these are my Mom's chocolate chip cookies with some variations. I made them for my physical therapist, whose care for me in the past year has made me feel more like myself. Happy Mother's Day to her, too.

Salted Chocolate Cookies with Ginger and Coconut
This dough needs to be refrigerated, so plan ahead a bit. No mixer needed here. As with most cookies, watch them very carefully in the oven and take them out before they look done.

2 c. old fashioned oats
1 3/4 c. flour
1 tsp. kosher salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 c. brown sugar
1/2 c. white sugar
1 egg plus one egg yolk
1 c. (2 cubes) melted unsalted buter, cooled
1 c. unsweetened coconut chips (large flakes)
1/2 pkg (or more) dark chocolate chips
1/3 c. chopped candied ginger
flaked salt for tops

Combine oats, flour, salt, soda, and sugars in medium mixing bowl. Add egg, egg yolk, and cooled melted butter and stir until almost combined. Add coconut, chocolate chips, and ginger, and stir until just mixed. Refrigerate dough for an hour.

Heat oven to 350. Form dough into balls (about 2 Tb. per ball) and set onto a parchment-lined cookie sheet. Press a bit of flaked salt into the tops of each cookie. Bake for 9-11 minutes, or until they're just baked. Remove from oven and cool.

Yogurt Lemon Loaf with Rosemary and Walnuts

2013-05-07T21:28:37Z

It's Teacher Appreciation Week at Roosevelt Elementary, which means I'm doing some baking. Happily.

Sending my children off each morning to spend their day absorbing other people's values, playing with other people's children, and learning someone else's curriculum could be terrifying. Except it's not.

The public school down the hill from us is an amazing place on the planet. The teachers and staff really like another another, emotional intelligence is highlighted just as much as any other skill, and I usually hear staff and students laughing when I'm there. Things are serious and structured when they need to be, and playful and silly as often as possible. There's artwork everywhere, and little groups doing work around every corner--tutorials, gentle disciplinary conversations, peacemaking.

I always say we wake up in the morning with a certain amount of energy. We can waste it being touchy, annoyed, or feeling like outsiders, or we can make a choice to be engaged and present. Teaching is hard. And it doesn't pay very much. And you're ON for hours at a time in front of an audience that doesn't say thank you or even do you the courtesy of sitting still! But these Roosevelt folks? They spend their energy being present. And it shows in how my children are developing. That's pretty powerful.

This recipe is for you, Shelly. You light up that front office like fireworks, and I don't think you can imagine how much light and goodness you spread. Thank you.

Yogurt Lemon Loaf with Rosemary and Walnuts
Adapted from Melissa Clark's recipe for Chocolate Chip Pecan Loaf Cake, which I've adapted a million times. I adore her, her food sensibilities, her great writing, and the fact that this recipe just requires a spoon and a mixing bowl!

For cake:
1 c. sugar
2/3 c. plain yogurt
3 large eggs
1 3/4 c. flour
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
10 Tb. unsalted butter, melted
1 c. toasted walnuts, coarsely chopped
1-2 Tb. chopped fresh rosemary
1 Tb. lemon zest

For glaze:
1/4 c. fresh lemon juice
1 c. powedered sugar
2 tsp. lemon zest
1/2 Tb. soft butter

Butter and flour a 9x5 loaf pan and preheat the oven to 350.

Using a whisk, comgine the sugar and yogurt. Add eggs, one at a time, and whisk until completely combined.

In a separate bowl, mix flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add the dry mixture into the wet mixture, then fold in the melted butter a little at a time. Fold in walnuts, rosemary, and zest.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 50-55 minutes, or until the cake is golden and tester inserted into the center comes out clean.

While cake is cooling, make glaze. Combine lemon juice and powdered sugar in a bowl, and microwave for 20 seconds. Take out of the microwave and add butter and lemon zest, whisking until mixture is glossy. Pour over the cake while it's still in the pan. Let cool for another 10-15 minutes before turning it out to cool to room temperature before slicing.

Tomato Confit

2013-05-04T01:21:47Z

I heard an interview with Jacques Pepin today. For his culinary school students, he devised this final test: roast chicken and roast potatoes. He told them not to try to stand out or surprise him. He said all the chickens would be different from one another anyway. And if you pour yourself a glass of wine while it's roasting, it will matter less if it's burnt.

Amen.

Isn't it wonderful when the best things turn out to be the simplest? That's these tomatoes. Take whatever half-wilted fresh tomatoes might be wasting away in the pantry. (In my case, it was a combination of pear tomatoes from Trader Joes and a few "vine ripened" ones from the grocery that never made it into a salad. Yes, I sometimes buy tomatoes in the winter. Prosecute me.) Since you probably won't have a ton of those (you, ethical reader, NEVER transgress like me), add them to a can of diced or whole tomatoes that you drain. Combine your tomato medley in a roasting pan and sprinkle liberally with coarse salt, a tiny bit of sugar, and a huge glug of olive oil. Roast at 300 for at least an hour, longer if you have time. The uses are limitless--with eggs, on top of pizza, on a baguette. Straight from the pan. Yum.

In the "simple is spectacular" vein, we were playing games around the coffee table last night, the evening light was pouring through our windows, and I ran for my camera. I've clicked through these photos a million times already today, thankful to the millionth power for my husband, my son, my daughter and that we're in each other's orbit every day. Amen.

State of Gratitude

2013-05-02T00:45:39Z

When I got home yesterday, there was a package waiting for me. The return address said, "State of Gratitude." Inside was a gift from an anonymous iPol reader. This wonderful t-shirt (which I'm wearing as I type) and beautiful card, thanking me and cheering me on. Whoever you are, you don't know how much your gift means to me. I'm soaking it up. Thank you.

Richard Rohr says my personality type needs to fall in love with something every day. (For more on The Enneagram, hang around me for 3 seconds. I've been obsessed with it for a decade.) That's what food and photography do for me. Whatever the frustrations in my day, the overwhelming sadness or unfairness in the world, or the imperfect way of everything, I can capture a moment. A biscuit with jam, evening light on a jar of lilacs, the silent, white space of St. Ignatius Chapel.

I heard someone on Radiolab talking about a last interview Maurice Sendak gave. He said he could hardly stand to think of parting with the tree outside his window--he loved it and wanted to be with it longer. But he said he was ready to go. How beautiful. The commentator, a doctor, said, "It's healthy to want to stay, and it's healthy to be ready to go." None of us are long for this world. It's the one thing we can be sure of. So capture the light while you can.

Feta and Green Onion Biscuits

2013-04-29T04:05:10Z

These biscuits were definitely on the "pro" side of the list.

But along with the pros, there were some cons this week. My spiritual director loaned me a rock to meditate with. On the outside, it's gray, bumpy, and rather unattractive. On the inside, it's a brilliant blue stone. She said life is like that, and we have to remember that it's a package deal--the ugly with the beautiful.

The principal of my kids' school, one of the best leaders I've ever known, is getting promoted to the district level and won't be there next year. I cried a few times.

My dad lost his job of 30 years. It's a long and personal story, and obviously, a sad one.

I keep thinking of the bombing victims in Boston and those two lost brothers. The Catholic sister I was with last weekend would say the "blessing seed" deep inside them, the one that everyone is born with, was mangled somehow.

But underneath the bumpy grayness, there's been some brilliant blue. Some of the things that made me smile this week:

Walking into the bathroom and seeing 4 years worth of Guinness Book of World Records on the floor.
Seeing my clients find some sparks of light in some previously dark corners.
Getting a call from my nephew Ezra asking how my dog Padre was doing. I could bottle that little voice and sell it.
Taking photos with my new camera. Yancey said he didn't know it would make me this happy.
Bringing home an outfit for Loretta and her wearing it 3 days in a row. Home run. (She's getting picky these days.)
Sitting with my spiritual director on her deck in the sun, listening to the birds and knowing, in that deepest place, that I'm not in control of anything.

Some weeks, the cons outweigh the pros. Or they barely even out. Whatever kind of week you've had, I hope you can see the polished brilliance, still inside no matter what.

P.S. Oh yeah. The food. These are a riff on my classic biscuits, and will elevate any soup to divine heights. The feta adds some moisture that makes them even fluffier, if that's possible, and the green onions add beautiful little flakes of color.

Feta and Green Onion Biscuits
Makes 6-8, depending on the size of your biscuit cutter. I doubled the batch for 6 people, and we had none left over.

2 c. flour
1 tsp. salt
1 Tb. baking powder
1/2 c. (1 cube) cold unsalted butter
1/2 c. coarsely crumbled feta
1/3 c. finely chopped green onions
3/4 c. cold milk
flaked salt and milk for tops

Preheat oven to 450.

In a medium bowl, combine flour, salt, and baking powder. Cut in butter with your fingertips or a pastry cutter until butter is in pea-sized lumps. Add feta and green onions and gently mix with your hands.

Add milk, and mix with a wooden spoon until mixture just holds together. Knead a couple times in the bowl, then let dough rest for a minute or two.

Flour a work surface. With a rolling pin, roll dough out into a rectangle about 1/2" thick. Fold short ends toward one another, then roll out again until dough is about 3/4" thick. With a biscuit cutter, cut out rounds and place them close together in a pie plate on a cookie sheet. Roll out remaining dough the same way and cut out the rest.

Brush tops with milk, then sprinkle lightly with flaked or coarse salt. Bake in preheated oven for 10-12 minutes, until tops are golden brown and biscuits are cooked through. Serve hot with butter.