![]() ![]() ![]() “Look what it’s starting to do,” he says, inviting the women to come peer at the lumpy blob. Once he’s worked the butter into the dry ingredients, Peacock dumps in cold buttermilk and gives the dough a vigorous stir. Everyone laughs (he’s a funny mime), and his hands dive back into the bowl to push the floury butter into shards. Peacock takes a hand out of the bowl, rolls his eyes, and begins riffling imaginary bills in the air to demonstrate the technique. Inside the bowl are two varieties of heirloom flour, homemade baking powder, kosher salt, and fat chunks of butter. Four women, who have driven hours to the small town of Marion, in his home state of Alabama, to join him in the sunny kitchen of a historic mansion called Reverie, crane their necks. ![]() “I call that counting the money,” Scott Peacock says, his hands deep in a vintage yellowware bowl and in constant motion. ![]()
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