Biscuits on the Rise: A Review of Rise Biscuits

multimedia by Lauren Dierks

photo by Noelle Griffin

I’ll admit it. Ever since I ate my first homemade biscuit when I was four, I’ve been a sucker for every and all kinds of biscuits — sweet or savory. When I saw the line rolling out the door and smelled the delicious aroma of Rise Biscuits at the Prairie Village Shopping Center, I knew my Sunday brunch was about to be pretty dang good.

Standing in line for 15 minutes, I was able to admire the baby blue and orange walls decorated with swirly font declaring “The Best Dang Biscuits & Beyond.” Boy, were they right. I had never known the true potential of a biscuit until I engulfed one from Rise.

I opted for the classic chicken biscuit — perfect for my not-so-daring taste buds. I also chose a glazed donut and some french fries so I could try to balance the savory with some sweet. I happily swiped my debit card and gave the iPad my hard-earned $11 and 87 cents.

I sat right under a picture of rolled-out biscuit dough, which was part of a series of pictures lining the wall showcasing the biscuit-making process. I couldn’t help but smile at the simple yet adorable touch of detail, and also cringe at the fact I cracked a smile over biscuits.

What wasn’t so adorable was how long I had to wait. Thanks to the wall photo series, I understood that biscuit-making is a long process, but placing chicken in between a premade one shouldn’t be. I counted an 18-minute wait, and usually I’m not a stickler for wait times, but I was hungry.

The sweet sound I had been waiting for finally rang in my ears.

“Maddox!”

The cashier was holding out my order and I felt like I could see a ray of light peeking out of the paper bag.

I tried the donut first. One bite and I knew I’d never have to go to Krispy Kreme again. You can’t go wrong with a classic, fluffy glazed donut.

After cleansing my palate with some water, I moved on to the main course.

I quickly grabbed my long-awaited lunch, tore the bag open and got some side-eyed glares as I let out a faint “mmm” when I saw how appetizing my biscuit looked.

Soon after snapping a picture of one of the most heavenly-looking meals I’ve had — phone eats first, always — I grabbed my biscuit-sandwich hybrid and took a bite.

I processed my dinosaur-sized chomp and thought something I’d never expected to think about a biscuit — I was unimpressed. The flavors of the chicken and the biscuit clashed together in a way that left a taste of nothingness, almost as if they had canceled each other out. I tried to tell myself I was wrong by trying some more, but that only intensified my dislike for what I was eating. I had never been so surprisingly disappointed in my 16 years of culinary exploration.

I needed to like this biscuit. I had waited as long as an I-435 rush hour traffic jam takes to disperse and hyped it up more than I hype up Beyoncé concerts. To attempt to save my brunch, I decided to disassemble the sandwich and eat the biscuit by itself.

I made the right decision.

Every smell that resonated within my nose walking in the store was now in my mouth. It tasted like a fluffy, bread cloud and tested the authority of my Grandma Jeanne’s Thanksgiving specialties.

All the doubts I previously had with due to the taste-diminishing chicken were whisked away with each bite.

I was so invested in my biscuit I had forgotten about my fries, but my biscuit was so filling, I wrapped up the fries for later and decided to end on a high note.

All within about 45 minutes, I had gone through an intense range of emotions. Suspense, heartbreak, betrayal, confusion, and relief were all present in one lunch. I took one last look at the wall with the words “Have a Righteous Day” displayed larger than life. And that I had, thanks to Rise Biscuits.