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POPSTROKE

BarTenders Eatery

Chicken Biscuit
Sandwich

Served with breakfast potatoes

January. A cold, bright, blue-sky morning, the kind where your breath hangs in the air like a thought you haven't finished.

My neighbor Gail and I have a rivalry. It began over a leaf blower and has since expanded to every competitive arena available to two grown women. This morning it was putting.

Hole 9. Gail had a ten-footer, slightly uphill, a break she read perfectly. She made it. She did a little dance. I will not describe the dance.

I needed comfort. I needed warmth. At the turn, on the patio, I needed the Chicken Biscuit Sandwich.

Crispy chicken, with a crust you can hear across the table, set on a warm, flaky biscuit that comes apart in layers like a good story. Then a drizzle of Mike's Hot Honey, sweet heat seeping into every flake and crevice, the kind of thing that makes you close your eyes in public. Breakfast potatoes alongside, keeping the whole operation honest.

I ate it with my gloves off and my coat on. Steam rose from the biscuit into the cold. Gail watched me and asked, very quietly, if she could have a bite of my hot honey chicken biscuit. I said no.

Then I sank a twenty-two-footer on 10, rode the momentum all the way to the 18th green and won by a single stroke. Gail has not mentioned the dance since.

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