Alabama has a way of turning simple things into something personal, and biscuits are the best proof of it. One bite in, and suddenly nobody’s calling you “ma’am” anymore.
They’re calling you by your name, like it’s always been that way. These are biscuits with presence, flaky, buttery, warm enough to slow the morning down, and good enough to make people remember your order without checking a screen. I watched counters turn into meeting spots and quick breakfasts stretch into conversations that clearly didn’t need an end time.
Nothing about them is flashy, and that’s the point. They do their job so well they earn loyalty, and first-name privileges…