Now relax, the Biscuit Report always returns – just been a little busy lately, but things are returning to normal after a long overdue check-in to reality. It’s been a few tough weeks for what some girl on the street called “Hey! You’re the Biscuit Guy!!” Yeah, chicks still dig the report 😉

Friday started with a random phone call at 6am learning my uncle had passed. Unexpected, tough deal and way too young. Made for a long day, but luckily I’m blessed enough to have a great group of friends to support me through some turbulent times – and that’s a perfect lead into…

No, Drop the Biscuit!!

The Biscuit Report returns with the long awaited ending of a NULL part series, picking up on the best part of the trip. My boy Cliff (pictured above) avoids any facial scars from Mya and presents proudly on the big day. Many mornings of frozen Eggo pancakes and sausage links have taught him well. Don’t tell Horat…

Me and this guy go way back – back far enough that I don’t even know where this picture was taken in front of a double leaf egress door w/panic hardware (oh man, how my age is showing). Either way, I guarantee it was an “Assembly” occupancy, and we probably shouldn’t have been doing what we were doing 12 yrs ago. But props to whoever snapped this photo.

Oh yeah, the Biscuits and Gravy – The Rusty Wagon, it sucked. Even on brownout mode the food here is less than to be desired. I know that’s a hot take, but it’s just not good. Even the sun shines on a dog’s ass from time to time, but you won’t find it here. I award this meal 1 biscuit – now on with the wedding….

My last words to the soon Groom to Be. Can’t wait, looks like Pt VI is coming soon…

Everything between Tuesday and Monday is kind of a blur. Bear with me as I try and recollect everything before I forget it. This may be an even tougher read than normal, apologies in advance.

Cookin’ Steaks! Not the best photo, but yes, those are Ribeyes. As the groom Horat once told me – “dude, ribeyes are the like LeBron James of steak”. To which I snarked back with the obvious reply “Kobe’s got his own beef – where’s the LeBron beef? Tell me where you can buy it, and I’ll cook you a steak…..”

That went over well. It’s Friday night, and I’m cooked – almost literally. You could probably fry bacon on my face after watching a small army of family lay tables, prep flowers, and level out the dance floor. Full disclosure once again, I may or may not have dipped into the Whatcom Refrigeration trailer (which, if I had to guess, may have been a comfortable 39-degrees on the dot).

Today’s the Day! After battling Landaal’s long ass legs on the couch all night, I’m awakened for our breakfast date with Horat, Timbo, Terri, and Randaal. Sitting in the booth with a little bit of a lump in my stomach, Timbo and Shane lead by example – playing it cool. If they’re good, then I’m good (despite an usually brutal hangover and sunburn combo). Now that my mind’s free, look at all that shit on the wall – I swear, you could be the only person in this place and it’d still feel busy….I love it

After ironing about 5/6 of the groomsmen’s shirts (wtf Mens Warehouse), the Bridal party is starting to arrive. And oh man, let me tell you…

We’re gonna have to continue with Pt. V – but before I forget, if anyone wants to talk me up to the Persian girl holding down the Men’s Warehouse at Bellis Fair, I wouldn’t have a problem with that.

Motley Crue once said “I’m on my way….home sweet home”. After a couple of useless days at work while waiting for the FedEx girl to bring my new phone home (yes, she’s pretty cute for those who are wondering), it’s time to depart, yet again, on the best part of this trip.

You know what it is – shoutout to Delta because I have no idea how I ended up with an empty seat between window and aisle…again. Packed flight, mind you. Another pro-tip: Pack as much shit into a carry-on bag as you can, vacuum seal that bitch, and wait to board last. 10 out of 10 times they’ll say they’re about out of bin space, and ask if you wouldn’t mind checking your 75lb (yet compressed) “carry on” bag for free. Restrain yourself from celebrating that you won’t have to lift that heavy thing into the overhead. And remember – last bag in = first bag out. I do suggest making it seem like a minor inconvenience (we call this “flopping” in soccer) because you may end up with the best last open seat, maybe a cocktail, or even an extra bag of Cheezits! Instead of paying $30 to check a bag, you’re now possibly up $20 (that is of course, if you’re charming and drink doubles like myself).

Lookin Tough! Feeling pretty good, watching the Huskies via Sling on the WiFi. Yeah, its EWU – but Eason’s throwin’ bows! I’ve got my headphones in, and randomly cheering for no reason and scaring children. After a bit I had to make my way to the rear galley for a break, and came face to face with the cutest Delta girl on board…. Shaking her head, she looks at me and says “Only a Huskies fan”. Naturally, in my airborne state I quipped back “You must be a Coug, because otherwise I might ask you on a date”. Turns out she was, and I got another double out the deal. I’m starting off this trip already feeling a couple inches taller.

Flying over Husky Stadium on gameday reminds me that I still need to “SailGate” one of these days. While dreaming of my next mid-future trip, I realize what I’m here for – my best friend’s wedding to the woman of his dreams. I’m shaking off the future and enjoying the present – can’t wait!

Now that I finally have my replacement phone in hand (overnight air my ass), I’m starting to pick up some of the pieces from last weekend. I had to include this Snap gem because I think it was the last photo taken on my old phone before it went for a drink in the Wenatchee. And yes, I’m 32 and still can’t say “Wenatchee” without giggling. It’s kinda like the word “dinghy” – if you can say it to someone else without laughing, then you’re a better man (or woman) than I am. Don’t go getting a big head now.

The Block is Hot. Sidebar trip to Round Table Pizza in Bellingham with my mom and the infamous Maxx (yes, two ‘X’s). I’m enjoying a Montague’s All Meat Marvel along with a pitcher of Stone Delicious IPA when I see the staff gawking and looking out the window. “Oh f’ck, Maxx” I think as I’m running out of the restaurant – sure enough, some guy with a patch on his shirt from the Whatcom Humane Society has a thermometer in the window of my rental truck no less than a foot away from the 4 legged pimp. ‘WHATS THE TEMPERATURE??” I yell on my 4.3 approach, knowing damn well it’s not that hot. “84 degrees” he says as I try and adjust my eyes to the heavy tree shade I’d parked in. After I informed him it was 79 degrees outside, and that his thermometer only read 81, I was let off with a “warning”. I won’t disclose the remainder of that conversation, but to say the least I was extremely pissed. But anyways…

My Main Man Lincoln Asher Muller! This kid’s the real deal. One of the best parts of this trip was some long overdue catching up with friends and family I haven’t seen for a bit now. I’m not going to get too emotional here (after all, it’s about the Biscuits and Gravy), but I thoroughly enjoyed the little bit of time I got to spend with everybody. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t shed a tear on the way out of town, but then again I’m a liar 🙂

Just watchin’ the dogs. Maya is out of control, the Horat’s have gotta put this dog on a leash! Just kidding, but I am watching the K-9’s (and having a coupe early morning vacation pops) while Shane and Destinee are at work early in the week. We’re getting close, T-Minus 4 days…

The late summer journey continues with even more proof that I’m not a very good photographer after I’ve had a couple – shoutout to my boy Grant, his lovely Finnish wife “the Warden” (whom I accidentally shadowed), and the main man, the d’damn Groom himself, Shane Horat. This trip kicked ass, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Now where’d we leave off…

Oh yeah, I’d just landed at SeaTac for the bachelor party. (f’ck I hate that airport….) Although I did come across a pretty badass mural of the Seattle grunge scene with a ton of great old album covers and stub art in the terminal. After reminiscing of the good old days for about 15 minutes, it was time to start the 2 mile mecca to the Link light-rail station. I could go on and bitch about the regional transit shit show that is SoundTransit. I could complain about the 45 minutes it takes to get from SeaTac to King Street. And I could tell everyone, in detail, about the piss on the seat and heroin needles I got to enjoy firsthand in exchange for a $5 ride downtown. But the Biscuit Report is bigger than that, even if it is….

M-I-C, K-E-Y. M-O-U-S-E!! This is ST standard operating procedure. Anyways, enough with the junior trains, let’s get onto…

The real trains!! Amtrak bitch, I love riding the 518 Cascades route. It’s smooth, never crowded, often a little late like myself, and it’s got the Bar Car! Adam hooked it up while I got to enjoy a ride on the greatest scenic route during the absolute best time of year. It’s the most comfortable mode of transportation, and makes it to Bellingham faster than a car in traffic. If you have the means, I highly recommend it.

Just sippin’ on the train! There are always some things people take for granted sometimes, and this just sent me into town with a decent case of homesickness . Luckily it was easily cured because I knew what was ahead of me. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for what seems like forever – my recent memory and all stress is erased, the smile has started, and I just realized there aren’t any smoke detectors in the bathroom. Giddyup!

Biscuit Break – I don’t even know if this counts and I’ll probably lose any credibility I have as a connoisseur of Biscuits and Gravy, but I have to give props to another of my boys, Landaal, who broke the biscuit barrier and did something radical that I’ve never seen before….

English Muffins & Gravy!! After a 10 minute pissing match over the eligibility of this dish while it cooked, I reluctantly agreed to give it a shot after a pretty well presented case. Landaal and I should have both gone into law….

I’m writing this from the bar, so I can’t create the image I want (which, important reminder — the Biscuit Report is brought to you by Bar-One. The only non-boojie place in Little Italy, SD. Tell em Joe sent you and you’ll pay full price for a hot-dog. And they won’t judge you like those snooty assholes at the pharmacy. Bar-One). Anyways, and I hate to do it, I’ve gotta give this dish a solid 4.5 biscuits! The gravy earned a full 5 (with hints of cayenne I think?). The english muffins were perfectly toasted in the oven, giving it a contrast in texture that I’ve never experienced in the biscuit game. I tip my hat Landaal, I think you’re on to something.

Full disclosure, my phone may have been lost/broke/stolen for the remainder of this leg of the trip. We’ll have to fast forward and pick up again during the week of the wedding. (PS – traveling without a phone sucks, it’s absolutely horrible. No boarding passes, nothing to listen to, no games to watch. Just laying on your back at the Everett transit center, looking at the sky, and saying to yourself “how’d your dumbass let your phone get lost/broke/stolen at the age of ….”

I know it’s been a while, but just like herpes the Report is back! Well, sort of….this time from the road as we travel back home to the Pacific Northwest for my boy Shane Horat’s bachelor party. But don’t you worry, we’ll be grading some biscuits along the way! So sit down, put your tray table up, and try to follow my random jottings as I take you along on this long awaited trip….

PLANES!! I work with some awesome people in the office, including my coworker and desk neighbor the “Colonel”, who dropped me off at the airport about 45 minutes before departure. After a smoke and about 5 minutes, I had already breezed through security, one of the many pros of San Diego Int’l. While SAN is definitely my favorite airport and is generally pretty pleasant, it’s not all roses. Just like a trip to WalMart makes you feel pretty good about yourself, walking through this airport can do the exact opposite. I mean, this one girl in line…all I can say is bless her heart….but oh well, nothing an IPA or two from Stone Brewery can’t cure at the gates.

FINAL BOARDING FOR DELTA #0869: I’ll never understand why people want to stand in line for 20 minutes during boarding, when you can just sit at the bar and watch from afar. This nearly always results in a seat upgrade or something else cool. And of course, this time was no exception.

Comfort+: I know this isn’t a travel blog, but I’ve just gotta say the ladies from Delta on this flight were g’damn pros. Once everyone had boarded, they immediately went into action shuffling people and seating arrangements to make everyone comfortable and put friends/family together when possible. It looked like they were going off some kind of analytic report, but this was just the demonstration of an experienced crew. It was impressive, you should have seen it.

WE’RE NOW CRUISING AT 30,000 FT: Man I’ve gotta pee….real bad. Those IPA’s were a dumb idea, I don’t think I’ll ever learn. Luckily I ended up sharing seats with a guy who was a splitting image of the bachelor’s dad, Tim Horat. This guy was awesome, and it was nice to know someone else was about 2 sheets at 3pm on a Wednesday. Smash cut another half hour later and I’m dancing in line at the galley and chatting up the Delta ladies for a bit. I successfully negotiated my last complimentary cocktail just in time to start our descent into SeaTac.

For anyone who’s confused, I just want to clarify I’m flying in on August 21st. We typically call this “Summer” in the Northern Hemisphere. I honestly don’t even know if I packed pants…

A, B, C, D, N, & S : These are a few of my favorite gates! Or maybe not at Sea-Tac, goddamn this airport is always just a f’cking disaster. I’ve gotta sign off for now, but the journey continues on Part II, coming up next.

Playing some catch-up here on the report, so let’s go back in time a few weeks to my visit at Lucky’s Lunch Counter…

This morning we’re back on the biscuit hunt, despite somewhat of an unexpected hangover (shoutout to John Clayton Weekends for the wake-up call). Chicks dig the ‘Report apparently, and they had me up late jotting down a bevy of suggestions and potential contenders while at one of my favorite night spots, Bar-One. But anyways, back to biscuits…

One of the greatest things about living in Golden Hill, is that it’s all downhill from here – literally. Between here and downtown you’ll find what I commonly refer to as “Bitch Hill”, right on B Street – ironically enough. It’s not so much going down as it is coming back up (like everything in life). This is the same hill that gave me an undeserved sense of accomplishment after I determined I was too old to visit the ER if my dumbass attempted to ride down it on a Bird scooter. Anyways…since it’s already 10:30am, we’re gonna call an Uber out of the bullpen to catch up on time. Besides, I’ll burn off more biscuits walking “Bitch Hill” on the way home.

Clifford! This man came highly recommended with a 5 star rating and did not disappoint. He set the tone with some 2Pac as we cruised in his Buick LaCrosse and I tried to explain the concept of “brunch” to him. Even though he got lost on 8th and it was easier for me to jump out 3 blocks away from the destination, he still earned a solid 5 stars. One Love!

Welcome to Luckys!! Right off the bat, I’m thoroughly impressed – I can tell last night’s recon is paying off as Lucky’s may be a contender. Located right across the street from Petco Park, it’s about as wide inside as a single bar rail. As the ‘Four Tops’ play “I can’t help myself” in the background, I gaze upon a wide array of menu options. But then, right there, I see the #26 – Biscuits and Gravy. No sooner than I can crack an ear to ear smile, I’m promptly greeted by a cute waitress who happily takes my order and serves a strong (yet responsibly prepared) mimosa…total damage = $14.00.

As I waited on my #26, I sat in awe of this little gem hidden on Seventh Avenue. Even for being so late on a Saturday morning, the environment wasn’t overly busy or anxious. As I neared the end of my seco….first mimosa, I watched my plate approach. Time for the moment of truth….

I’m just gonna skip to the chase and say…this breakfast was AWESOME!! Eggs actually cooked overhard as ordered. Fresh fried sausage links, burning hot to the touch. Self standing biscuits with standalone gravy. Needless to say, I won’t crown a unicorn this early in (since it’d defeat the purpose), but I’ll definitely be reporting back from here – ESPECIALLY before some upcoming Padre’s matinees.

THE VERDICT:

4 Biscuits: Just based on lack of comparison, but I really can’t find many things to moan about with Lucky’s. I think this place is a hidden gem and hopefully I haven’t ruined it for the longtime locals. I highly recommend stopping in, and may very well come back and rate this place with the golden “5th Biscuit” someday down the line.

In the past 32 years, I’ve made several attempts at making homemade biscuits and gravy with a wide range of varying results. I think there were some good dishes, know there were some some horrible ones, and have simply forgotten the rest. I recently got a wild hair to play “Mr. Cook” again, encouraged that it’d take some real effort to mess it up. Plus I thought it was comically hypocritical to judge others on something I couldn’t even do myself, so, here we go…

Now don’t get your hopes up, I’m not making these biscuits from scratch – ain’t nobody got time for that. For this task, I’m giving the original Doughboy the start – the Pilsbury Buttermilk Grand Biscuit. It cooks at like 325 or 350 degrees for 14 minutes I think? Never mind that, I’ve gotta get started on the gravy.

Sausage is awesome, and one of the primary staples of any solid gravy recipe. Earlier I bought some “sausage flavored” gravy mix from Ralph’s for about a dollar (what-up Ralph!). Normally I’d say that sausage “flavor” is enough, but I’m going all in on this one – I need some real sausage bits in this bitch, and Banquet “Brown and Serve” links never disappoint.

Now we’re cookin with gas! Gravy prep consists of boiling some water and then blending in the powdered mix. The package said to “stir vigorously with a wisk”, which made me laugh probably more than it should have at my age.

Checking on my biscuits – with about a minute of cook time left at 325, my confidence level is low. Doesn’t really look like they’re cooked all the way. There’s a little bit of golden brown, but they look kinda wet or soggy?

Dammit, of course my dumbass read the directions wrong. Needed to be 350 degrees instead of 325. Pretty bad packaging though, not very intuitive or easy to read. Oh well, too late now – I’m sure they’ll be fine…

F*ck these biscuits, I can’t even peel them off the foil without flaking everywhere or burning my hand. They’re hot, but I can tell this will be the Achilles heel of this meal.

20 or so mins later, here’s the finished product. At first glance, the biscuits look pretty sad but the gravy is encouraging. I’ll give myself a pass on presentation though, time of the moment of truth.

Eh. The gravy was surprisingly tasty, almost too much sausage if there is such a thing. But any points earned by the gravy were quickly neutralized by the piss-poor biscuit game. Overly chewy and obviously uncooked, somewhere the Doughboy is shaking his head. While this attempt fell far below expectations, it’s a strong reminder to leave the real biscuit game to the professionals.

This is a great clubhouse on a muni course down the street in Golden Hill. I’ve been here quite a few mornings just because the atmosphere is awesome and the food is cheap. Weekends are pretty busy until late morning, but I’d say weekdays are the best. Not overly crowded and it’s always great to start the day on a course. This place won’t win any Top Chef awards, but they’ve got decent biscuits with an Average+ gravy combo. Mimosas are available upon request.

3 Biscuits: The City of San Diego isn’t in the business of making biscuits and gravy (although I should try the ones at Torrey Pines) , but it’s still a preferable choice to anything else in the neighborhood.