A missing link between 🇬🇧 biscuits and 🇺🇸 biscuits

This is a biscuit. A savory English tea biscuit. It came from a sleeve. In North America, we'd call it a cracker. It is thin, crisp, dry, and dense. This is a biscuit, a southern United States style biscuit. It's like a scone, but much softer, and it's often a little laminated, like puff pastry. Here, I propose is a possible missing evolutionary link between these two very different biscuits, and it's called a beaten biscuit. Seriously, it requires quite a lot of time spent hitting the dough as hard as you can. You beat it. I'm not saying the result is good, but it is historically interesting. It's a 19th century African-American recipe that I'm working off of. Etmologically speaking, biscuit means twice cooked because you used to bake a log of dough, slice it thin, and then re-ake the slices to dry them out, thus making them shelf stable for your long maritime voyage to the Americas, perhaps where biscuits morphed into something radically different. To get a basis for comparison, I will quickly show you a modern US biscuit recipe. This is from my girl Chrissy's book. two and two/3 cups allpurpose flour, four teaspoons baking powder, one teaspoon baking soda, and one teaspoon kosher salt. She actually has you chill the bowl with the dry ingredients for a while to help you avoid melting the whole stick of cold butter. Chrissy Tegan uses a food processor. I'm going to use a pastry cutter to cut the butter into tiny pieces in the flour. Basically, you cut until the butter pretty much disappears. But you want to keep the pieces solid, not melted, so the mixture stays heterogeneous and crumbles apart when you eat it. One cup of cold Americanstyle buttermilk, which is fermented like kefir. You could use kafir. Just barely stir this until you have a shaggy mass that almost resembles a dough. Bring it together, smash it out flat, then fold it over on itself two or three times to make those laminated sheets. Press it out an inch thick, then cut it into rectangles if you're efficient, or circles if you're a traditionalist. Circles do bake more evenly. You can make another biscuit from the trim, but it won't be as tender. Work the dough as little as possible. Brush the tops with melted butter or buttermilk if you're Chrissy, and bake at 450 Fahrenheit, 280 C. While I'm waiting, I'll resume the movie that I'm watching on Movie, sponsor of this video. Movie is a curated streaming service dedicated to elevating great cinema from all around the globe. You can get a whole month for free at movieby.com/adamusia. From iconic directors to emerging aur there's always something new to discover. With movie, each and every film is hand selected. Check out their collection, Let's Eat Food and Film, featuring works, contributions, and insights from Jean Pierre Jane, Tron Ang Hong, Alfred Hitchcock, George Miller, Eileene Miles, and more. From cult classics to contemporary discoveries, titles include The Lunchbox, Lacosina, Flux Gourmet, The Taste of Things, Dessert for Constants, and many more. You can try Movie free for 30 days at movieby.com/adamreusia. That's mubi.com/adamregusia for a whole month of great cinema for free. Link in the description. Thank you, movie. Anyway, modern American biscuits. A really hot oven for 10 or 15 minutes. This or something like it is what a biscuit is in most of North America today. Though in older sources, I've seen it referred to as biscuit bread, which I suspect means bread baked in the style of a biscuit, which is to say in small individual portions with fat. and no yeast. The beaten biscuit actually has no leavenner at all in it. Perhaps because old leavenners like pearl ash were not very tasty. This is a rich person's treat because it replaces the leavenner with a lot of elbow grease. A quart of flour, which is four cups. A third of a cup of butter. Salt to taste, which for me is generally a half a teaspoon of kosher per cup of flour. And then this lard, rendered pig fat used to be very popular in southern baking because butter melted down here before refrigeration. A third of a cup of lard. And then I'm supposed to cut the fat into the flour. Per classic French pastry technique. You can just use a knife to cut fat into flour. It doesn't take that long to basically disappear. Then my 19th century recipe says to use sweetened water. Doesn't say how sweet, but I've seen it compared to milk. And a cup of milk would have the equivalent of like a tablespoon of sugar. So that's what I'm using. One cup of sweetened water goes in. And I'll integrate it using the Italian well method. Just bring in a little of the walls into the water until you can't anymore. And then it's time to knead this together. The sweetened water was purported to enhance browning and extend shelf life, which I suppose makes sense. Sugar might lower whatever remaining water activity we'll have after baking. Time now to smack that a lot. First, I tried to hammer and then I moved over to my rolling pin. Smack a little, roll a little, smack a little, roll a little, and constantly fold it back over on itself to create laminations. How long do you have to beat it? I've seen estimates as high as an hour and a half. I did about 45 minutes. While that's happening, let me tell you about the woman who wrote this recipe, Annie Nolles Fiser. She was a cook in Columbia, Missouri. Rich white folks would have paid her or enslaved her parents to do the hard physical labor of beating these biscuits. I'm sure Miss Annie had forearms like Popeye. And her beaten biscuits were so good that she started selling the mail order to Southerners who had moved up north or out west. And she started making them with a biscuit break, which is like a pasta roller. That's why I think rolling is probably a good idea in as much as you can do it. The dough is very tough, but I think the point of beating is to fold this over on itself a million times to create laminations that will effectively tenderize the final biscuit. How? By making steam pockets that inflate a little in the oven and also by creating break points for when you chew it. They say that you're done when the dough appears lighter and you see it blistering. When you see evidence of those thin layers, get it half an inch thick, and then the traditional thing was to ball this up in your hands, flatten them a little, and then dock them with a fork. That gets you a crude result. Annie Fiser used a cutter to visually show off those layers. I'm using a measuring cup, but she invented her own non-stick biscuit cutter. Fischer earned enough money shipping beaten biscuits to buy a lot of rental properties in downtown Colombia and she died a rich free woman. Divorced her no- good husband without giving him a scent and she put her daughter through college. Pretty badass. The docking looks nice and it prevents any large bubbles from deforming the biscuit in the oven. You're supposed to bake them gently at 325 Fahrenheit, 160 C for about an hour. And here they are, beaten biscuits. I'm not sure if they're supposed to be this hard. They are lighter and easier to eat than the bricks that we would have gotten had we not formed those millions of laminations that you can see in the interior texture. I might like it better moistened with gravy, which is apparently how people used to have it. But there you go. If you're wondering how hard little English biscuits became thick, fluffy American biscuits, I'd theorize that this and things like it represented the evolutionary midpoint.