I run into the house and search for the green roll holder with the little black top that has been glued on for at least 20 years. If it is not resting on the middle of the table in the place of honor, then it has to be on the counter next to the toaster oven. They just have to be there. If they were still hot I know I could smell them. I can hear Tootsie’s voice, “Come yuh, Baby. I done fix you yo’ baby biscuit.” Beyond her Gullah words are dedicated years to my family of love, care and service. Tootsie’s biscuits are my soul food.

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