COME TASTE MY FAMILY TRADITION!

Oh, this is not your average biscuit; more of a priceless, edible heirloom, a culinary echo whispering across the decades. Each golden bite of My Buttermilk SLAP Biscuits is a visceral journey back home, a warm chronicle of the memories of family, togetherness, so much laughter and labors of love. They are the very story of my Grandma—a weary spirit overworked, underpaid, under appreciated—who, in her busy 1960s kitchen in Newark, NJ, seemed perpetually framed by the steam, the flour and the grease. But for me, that kitchen was more than a room; it was the sacred geography of my youth, the true heartbeat of my childhood existence, where I lived, watched and learned—what home should feel like.

The Unadorned Art of Biscuit MAKING

Fifty-plus years have vanished now, yet the scent of that vibrantly distressed childhood home—a bustling hive where cousins, aunts, and uncles shared breath and burden. I recall, it was right off Central Avenue; it all still clings to my soul. Young and terribly unappreciative back then, I was the unknowing recipient of a quiet, unadorned daily act of grace—My Grandmother in the kitchen, not only feeding, but nourishing the soul of our family.

Imagine my grandmother: A domestic maid, her hands accustomed to the double-labor of serving others, while nurturing her own family and her 10 children. With meager provisions—flour, soured milk, lard—those same hard-working hands performed alchemy. She didn't just bake; she mixed up a mouthful of some homemade love destined only for our coveted Sunday breakfast.

Oh, I so looked forward to Sunday mornings! They were monuments of sheer joy, steeped in family tales, punctuated by bursts of laughter and, yes, often eclipsed by heated debate. It didn't matter; the heat of the oven was the hearth of our world. I realize now that this simple, hot bread was the very currency of affection. Who knew! That young heart, watching the rising dough and the rising sun, absorbed a profound truth. I’d always hoped to inherit that mantle, to be That Mom—the one who could turn humble ingredients into the enduring warmth of home—to all whom crossed my threshold.

The SLAP Biscuit is Born

Now, quite unexpectedly, I am the owner, operator, and chief biscuit-maker at my very own 5-Star Boutique Bed & Breakfast, Private Stay By MadlyGiving At National Harbor. More than fifty years later, the tradition flows from My Grandma’s hands, through my heart, into my own kitchen and straight into the belly—the soul—of My Dear Guests!

What all biscuit makers are after, my twist—a biscuit so soft, so fluffy, so rich with a buttery-crispness that one delighted guest was moved to exclaim, “These biscuits are so good, umma bout to SLAP somebody!” And in that moment of spontaneous, soul-stirring delight, My Buttermilk “SLAP” Biscuits were born!

my Secret Ingredient

What truly sets my biscuits apart? I believe, simply the time and love I pour into making them for you—from scratch. Each pan is lovingly—and I mean every single time—baked perfectly to a golden, buttery, ooom, ooom goodness, infused with my secret ingredient: A passion for making my guests go, Ooooooom!

Always served hot from the oven and slathered with softened butter, whether you crown them with a dollop of my fresh-made strawberry jam, a drizzle of Grannie’s raw honey, or her favored Black Strap Molasses, no mention, my homemade clotted cream—YUM, my Buttermilk SLAP Biscuits are so much more than bread with a meal meal—My SLAPS transform any meal into a soul-filled celebration! Things that make you go, OOOOOOOM!

I invite you to come taste for yourself some of our traditions—with a side of my family history, topped with My Buttermilk SLAP Biscuits—at Private Stay By MadlyGiving At National Harbor, a 5-Star Boutique Bed & Breakfast Experience, In Reverence Of Our Heritage, Curated by HospiTalent Mariby Corpening.

The richest most soulful unique warm loving exotic abundant bed & breakfast you’ll ever have!

—HospiTalent Mariby Corpening

Things That Make You Go, “Ooooooom!”