There’s something to be said about Southern comfort food. Or at least that’s what I think. It gives a warm, homey feel at a time when the rest of the world is a scary place, especially right now.

Mom’s from the South, so Southern-style food has always been on the home menu. I might be a Southern girl at heart. Sometimes it comes out in my voice.

Which is funny because I’ve lived in the Middle East for most of my life and haven’t really lived in the South.

Mom teases me when that happens. Her Southern accent is long gone after 20-plus years in this country, except for if she gets on the phone with one of my uncles. Then it comes back strong and stays for at least a week.

“Where’d you get that accent?” she asks.

“It’s in the blooood...” I always reply.

I’m supposed to be half Arab. I’m not very good at it though. My Arabic skills are adequate at best, and I can only eat so much rice before I get sick of it. And that’s what this country’s cuisine is made of. Rice, rice, rice.

It makes me sleepy, too. If I want to sleep, all I need is a plate of rice.

I’ve been thinking of making chicken and dumplings for a while. I found a nice slow cooker recipe for it. We decided to make it tonight, but the usual way.

Mom usually uses her grandmother’s dumpling recipe. The recipe I’d found mentioned biscuit dough instead. So we decided to do that and double it, so we could have biscuits, too.

“Put an egg,” she says.

I’m the designated biscuit maker. Since I found out how to make them, she always gives me that job. She likes to boast about her daughter’s biscuit making skills to all her Southern friends.

Moms.

“That went well the last time,” I say. That’s sarcasm. It was a lumpy wet mess that I kept having to add flour to. So not doing it again.

That’s the difference between me and Mom. I have specific measurements of everything I make. I even use a food scale. Mom just dumps everything together. I can’t even get a straight recipe to give to people. She can’t even give me the number of spoons she used of an ingredient. It can be anywhere from 1 to 3.

My recipe did not take an egg into account, obviously.

“My grandmother always put an egg,” Mom says.

I grin.“If you want your grandmother’s biscuits,  feel free to make them.”

She sticks out her tongue.

I don’t think Mom and I have the traditional mother-daughter relationship. We’re more friends and confidants than anything else. It’s been that way since I was 11 or 12.

It’s a special kind of relationship where your mother or daughter is one of your best friends.

I made the biscuits my way, in case you’re wondering. Sometimes, one just has to compromise.

Especially when your daughter doesn’t have any skill with your grandmother’s biscuits and you want biscuits anyway.