Working Class Savior: The Biscuit Trio by Harlem Biscuit Co.

‘Twas the day I was proclaimed a hero. Imagine, it’s the break of dawn, and a hoard of big burly men with their miscellaneous contraptions groggily completing their tasks. Lifeless, with grumbling tummies. What a cold morning it was to be a working-class New Yorker. But, oh, what’s that?!

Tis I!

Your savior emerges from a tunnel; a bright lighted silhouette carrying tented foil! The scent of butter and toasted tops? The foil unfurls. Stacks of biscuits! Golden crests! An assortment of billowy bodies! One by one disgruntled blue-collar bodies reach out for a sturdy cloud and raised it to their mouths. Forklift operators rose their prongs to the ceiling! Hurrahs blast from the flanks. Biscuit and sausage gravy waterfall! They all pranced at my feet proclaiming “Queen! Queen! Thank you for your morning sacrifice, your blessings, and your phenomenal carb suggestions.”

Harlem Biscuit Company has been my savior through hungry mornings and various weather impediments. I love the feel of sinking my teeth into their chive and cheddar biscuit as I engage in tasks that exude performative masculinity like operating power-tools, opening pickle jars, and lifting a heavy box from a high shelf as a pretty lady says something along the lines of “Ooh you’re so strong.” The brush of salt against my palate, soft gold dipped in chicken gravy and the scent of a new skid-steer keeps me going through the toils of winter.