Texas Nation's Angel Pecan "Ghost" Biscuits

Old Oak Square, the shopping center where our restaurant Texas Nation spent its short life, was anchored by a spectacular eponymous live oak, at least 300 years old and with an interesting history: according to local legend, it was a hanging tree for outlaws in the 1800s. The modern shopping center was built around historic buildings, which were probably built around that hanging tree. The dining space we occupied  wasn’t added on until some point in the past 50 years, but it shared a wall with a much older building. And that dining space sports a curiosity in plain sight: on the poured concrete floor, a set of footprints disappears into one of the walls. The story behind those footprints, told to me by more than one local historian, inspired this poem.

The Old Oak Tree

by Sally Good

The lone oak tree in Old Oak Square

Is silent, day to day,

Standing tall and wide and fair

Yet knotted, aged, and gray.

The live oak tree, a wonder still,

Gives shade as if by plan,

With branches spanning o’er the sky

And centuries of man.

Cattlemen and pioneers

And Indians adrift

Most likely blessed its cool dark shade

As Mother Nature’s gift.

But not all men who stopped to rest

Did bless that tree of hope—

If their last chance, and sight, and breath

Dangled from a rope.

They say the last outlaw who hanged,

A restless soul no doubt,

In all his chains of sin and shame,

Came back to roam about.

Not once, they put the concrete down;

Not twice, the story goes,

But thrice they smoothed the surface flat,

And still the footprints rose.

The boot marks trail across the floor,

A stamp of fettered feet,

Then disappear into the stone—

A cold and hard retreat.

Who knows how man in afterlife

Still suffers from his sin?

Who knows what drives his soul to seek

Revenge—or grace—again?

The hanging tree in Old Oak Square

Is silent day to day,

But whispers with ghost shadows fall

When moonlit branches sway.

One day, not long before the ‘08-’09 recession forced our doors to close there in Marble Falls, a hippie-looking couple came by and left us a gift: they had taken the poem and turned it into a folk song. Its slow, haunting melody fit the lyrics perfectly. Alas, I have lost the CD, and I have lost the name of the kind and thoughtful composers.

Back to the biscuits: The original name of this recipe, "angel biscuits," comes from the use of yeast and baking powder (in the biscuit mix). The inclusion of two leavening agents gives the rolls an ethereal quality, I suppose.

 Makes 16 thick biscuits.

In a large bowl, whisk together . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Add and stir together well to make a soft dough, then cover loosely and let rest about 20 minutes . . . . . . . .

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1½ c. milk ¼ c. sugar 2 T. melted butter 1 T. yeast 1 t. vanilla 2 c. flour 2 c. biscuit mix ½ c. chopped pecans 1 t. salt

Turn out onto a floured surface, roll into a 1½-inch thick square, cut into 2” x 2” biscuits, place on a greased or parchment-lined baking sheet, and let rise in a warm place about 30 minutes. Preheat the oven to 400°. Bake for 20 - 25 or until golden on top and bottom. Brush with melted butter before serving.