I held my breath and opened the oven door. Carefully, very carefully, I slid the baking dish onto the oven rack (like it was a freaken explosive device or something) and closed the door while I said a little prayer, "please let this be the time it works." 

I turned to look at the kitchen behind me; it was an utter disaster. It looked as if a damn sack of flour had exploded, and someone decided to dirty every dish in the making of this baking adventure. Oh yeah, that someone is me. 

It had been three months of testing, tweaking, praying, making a damn mess in the kitchen, all in the attempt of nailing the best f'n southern biscuits that I could create from my hands. Yes, it's that serious of an undertaking. Buttery, fluffy, and delicious biscuits is a right of passage in my family (ok, not really), but everyone in my family knows a good biscuit, expects a good biscuit, and will eat them with just about everything breakfast or dinner (and for a snack, too.)

This was my attempt (for three months) to overcome my years of "I don't know how" and "I could never make a southern biscuit from scratch." Years of being intimidated by this very act of biscuit making seemed mostly like science and less of following the heart in baking. I was wrong. 

An eternity later, I pulled the biscuits from the oven. It was batch #48954889, and I had a lot of awful results and some promising results but this batch, oh this batch, it was the batch I had been practicing for. I knew immediately when I pulled it from the oven it had THE look I wanted. Tall, fat, fluffy, a golden brown on the outside, and a wonderful distinction of layers. Hot damn. 

I don't even remember what we ate them with, probably something like jam because I would not smother my first damn good batch of biscuits with something like gravy (no offense, gravy, I still love you). We needed to taste those mother f*ckers in all of their glory, their delicious, fluffy, buttery glory. 

This was my adventure in baking, in overcoming a very intimidating-I-could-never chapter. For me, baking biscuits was something my maw maw (as I lovingly called her) could do while multitasking making five other things in the kitchen because she was a bomb a** baker like that. But for me? Yeah, right, that would come after I could nail baking easier things and do so for many years. But that's not the truth. The truth is you can DO it. Wherever you are in your baking adventures: starting out, have done it for years but still tweaking, or pretty much a pastry chef, you can bake the ish. 

That's why I created Flouwr, for the curious creators, the ones that want to try baking something new or planting a garden for the first time or cooking a meal for friends that are THE foodies of their friend group. Here is where we encourage you to try, make, and share it with your friends and family. Here is where you start and keep going. We believe in you, and we'll be here telling you that you are the sh*t and a freaken boss along the way. Go bake it. Go plant it. And go share it with your friends and family. Make the damn biscuits!

Team Flouwr