I will never tire of explaining Biscuits and Gravy to people outside of the American South.

 

If you hail from Jolly Old England, or anywhere in the British Commonwealth, you’ve already got a strange and unappetizing picture in your mind. 

 

“Biscuits? The sweet wafers we dunk in our tea? Covered in Gravy? The brown stuff in the sauce boat we pour onto mash? And that over a bloody biscuit? Bollocks mate, that’s bonkers!”

 

Your confusion is forgivable, my Limey and Commonwealth Canuck, Aussie, and Kiwi friends (and certain Caribbean nation members who have yet to shake off the Crown). 

 

What you call biscuits, we call cookies. Your chips are our french fries, your crisps are our chips, your “God Save the Queen” is our “My Country Tis of Thee.” Seriously, it’s the same tune. 

 

Your bum bag is our fanny pack, because our fanny is a bum. And your fanny? Well, let’s keep this “G-Rated” (or “U-Rated” as you’d say back in the Old Country). Suffice it to say, if you have a fanny in Great Britain, you lack a “Y” chromosome (or else have undergone some delicately intensive surgery). 

 

Biscuits and Gravy dates back to the days when we were fighting off the redcoats (you guys really should have picked a different color, those uniforms were pretty conspicuous). We needed a cheap, filling, and delicious breakfast to start a big day of repelling monarchic rule. B&G fit the bill as the breakfast of champions.

 

An All-American biscuit is best translated as a savory scone. That description still doesn’t capture the flaky, buttermilk goodness of a down-home Southern American biscuit. You can make ‘em from scratch with flour, baking powder and a little short’nin’. It’s still perfectly acceptable, and most common, to crack that pressurized canister of Pillsbury with that satisfying champagne-cork “pop” when you open it. 

 

The word “gravy” has its own cultural variants as well. For Indians, it’s curry; for Italians, marinara. Regardless of its race, creed, nationality, or gender identity - gravy is the “U” for “Universal” name for thick, goopy, saucy stuff.

 

The “G” in an American “B&G” is a bechamel, or white cream sauce. Sounds a lot fancier than it is, and it don’t come outta no “sauce boat” neither. Just take your favorite fatty pork product (bacon, sausage, even bellies) and fry them shits up in a big ole pan. Scoop your meat pieces out and put ‘em on the side. Leave all that nice, glistening, glossy fat right there in that pan. Stir in a punch of flour and milk, unless you got some cream laying around. Whisk up that redneck roux in a lightnin'-swift circular motion like you’ve never whisked before. It ain’t no hollandaise, it won’t break. Toss the savory bits back into the mix and pepper it up with a heavy hand. I mean, open the dump hole on the McCormicks Ground Black Pepper tin - not the sprinkle spout. 

 

Serve and enjoy, my friends, birds and blokes.

 

But don’t eat too much of it, it’ll go right to your fanny.