A good biscuit deserves honey, a bad biscuit is just bad. My mom, though I love her dearly, makes the worst biscuits I ever tried to eat. I said tried, because no human being could take a bite off one of her biscuits. I used to put them in my pants pocket when she wasn't looking. Dad would see me and laugh because he did the same thing. I would take mine down to the pond and skip them across the pond like a rock. Actually I a rock is more likely softer then my mom's biscuits. I have no idea what my dad did with the ones he stuffed in his pockets. I should ask him. The first time my wife was introduced to my mom's biscuits. I grabbed them off her plate and stuffed them into my pockets along with my own, when my mom wasn't looking. She leaned over and whispered in my ear "I Love You" my mom's biscuits will put a dent in the wall if you throw them against the wall. I did that once with my wife at the table, when my mom was in the kitchen ofcourse.My grandparents used to get sorghum syrup in the fall. There were lots of small syrup makers around. I loved it on my grandmother’s biscuits.