It’s one thing to be a creative quadruple threat (film actor, stage actor, television actor, musician); it’s another thing entirely to excel as a quadruple threat for the better part of 43 years. From multiple Tony nominations—and wins—to starring roles on Fame and Treme, Michael Cerveris may be best known for his versatility as a thespian, but he proves just as formidable behind the mic on his long-awaited sophomore solo album, Piety. His sonic pedigree is unsurprisingly impressive, having shared the stage with the likes of the Breeders, Bob Mould, Teenage Fanclub and Frank Black. Cerveris will be guest editing magnetmagazine.com all week. Read his MAGNET Feedback.
Cerveris: I don’t know if everyone is like this. Maybe it happens more frequently when your cavity-prone years are spent below the Mason-Dixon Line. But I can’t remember a time in my life without biscuits. Store-bought or homemade, fast food or fine dining, biscuits have been comfort food my whole life. And who doesn’t at least want to be comforted every damn day? Biscuits may not always be good for you, but I don’t know what good a life without biscuits would be.
Growing up in West Virginia, my mom had enough to do keeping up with all of us kids and getting us to various Little League, swim practice, ballet class (my sister) and other after-school events, so the advent of the Poppin’ Fresh biscuit in a tube was a revelation. The combination of terror that the explosion would somehow maim you for life and the joy of the Pillsbury Doughboy’s face splitting open to reveal a real dough creature bulging out of his case was all the evening’s entertainment we needed. And the flaky goodness fresh out of the oven made whatever else we had on the table pale in significance. I remember Sunday trips to the King’s Table Buffet in neighboring Ashland, Ky., primarily for the trays of biscuits crowning the generously portioned tables. Crossing state lines just to get a good biscuit is a perfectly good use of resources, by the way.
And I think the first thing my mother ever taught me to make as a child was a biscuit. The idea that a little flour and some water, butter and a pinch of salt—the humblest and most honest of ingredients—could be transformed by some dark alchemy into a golden pinnacle of fluffy perfection was almost more than my child’s mind could bear.
I sample the local varieties everywhere I travel, from the greasiest Popeye’s to the most self-consciously artisanal handcrafted hipster locally sourced pop up. And, though I really hope never to find myself being faced with this decision, I know now what my request would be if the warden ever came for me, accompanied by a minister, asking what I wanted for my last meal. Just a biscuit, sir. And maybe a little gravy … if there’s time.
Video after the jump.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nR8SBa962Fk
