As a child, I indulged in Bisquick-based foods quite frequently. I like to think I was known for my fantastic drop biscuits. And, of course, my pancakes were legends in my own mind. I am sure I used my mother’s electric skillet far more than she ever did.
Over time, Bisquick and I grew apart. It wasn’t the Bisquick, it wasn’t me, it was just one of those things. We went in different directions. I started making stuff from scratch. I found solace in cooking. When my youngest sister and I start talking food on Facebook, my mother chimes in with “Where did I go wrong?”.
This didn’t change when I went gluten-free (except, you know, no more Sundays devoted to making sourdough bread, which is shaping up to be my Fall GF cooking project). I shunned prepared mixes and foods, this time with good reason. All those hidden gluten-y things. I was gluten-free, and I was going to do it my way.
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