Ham and Cheese Butter Swim Biscuits

You know that moment when you bite into something so buttery, so unapologetically rich, that you briefly forget your responsibilities, your inbox, your latest existential crisis, even your name? That’s the moment Ham and Cheese Butter Swim Biscuits were invented for. These aren’t health food. They’re barely even food. They’re more like a dare wrapped in cheddar, dipped in nostalgia, and deep-fried in southern charm. They taste like a warm hug from someone with no intention of judging your life choices.

Butter swim biscuits, as a concept, feel like they should come with a warning label: Highly Addictive. Will Ruin Other Biscuits. Their origin story is shrouded in buttery mystery, though anyone with a Southern granny will swear blind she invented them first. The idea is disarmingly simple: biscuit dough, roughly slapped together, tossed into a baking dish filled with melted butter. Not brushed. Not basted. We’re talking full immersion therapy.

Add in generous hunks of ham – thick, smoky, unapologetically piggy – and a good fistful of sharp cheddar, and now you’ve got something truly dangerous. This is the kind of comfort food that makes you cancel plans. It calls for flannel pyjamas and excuses.

As for regional twists, there are more than you’d expect for a dish that should come with a cardiac disclaimer. Texan kitchens throw in diced jalapeños and pepper jack cheese to add a fiery kick. North Carolina grandmas tend toward brown sugar ham and a splash of hot sauce. Midwesterners quietly add sour cream to the batter, whispering to themselves that it’s for moisture. Meanwhile, food bloggers – those eternal tinkerers – have tried swapping cheddar for brie, buttermilk for oat milk, and ham for jackfruit. The results are always… interesting. But the soul of the dish demands decadence. It’s built on butter, not good intentions.

What makes them truly irresistible is the texture. You get golden, craggy, slightly crispy edges that crackle when you tear them apart. Inside, it’s tender, steaming, almost custardy in spots where the butter pooled. The cheese melts and browns, forming savoury pockets. The ham edges get crispy, almost candied. Each bite is a reminder that restraint is overrated.

They pair beautifully with drinks, as all dangerous things do. Coffee, of course – but not the delicate third-wave kind. You want diner-style brew, strong enough to stand a spoon. Bloody Marys? Perfect. The salt and spice sharpen the richness. Mimosa? Delightfully chaotic. Even better, crack open a bottle of brut Champagne and lean into your inner Southern aristocrat. If you’re keeping it sober, try a mason jar of sweet iced tea or a cold glass of whole milk. Anything lighter feels like a betrayal.

On the food front, you don’t need much. A side of fluffy scrambled eggs or a sunny-side-up with a runny yolk. Maybe some wilted spinach if you’re pretending to make smart choices. Roasted cherry tomatoes add a hit of acidity. A spoonful of grainy mustard on the side is borderline genius. You can serve them with soup, too: creamy tomato, smoky split pea, or chicken and rice. But honestly, they don’t need backup. They’re the headliner, not the opener.

Nutritional value? Limited. Emotional value? Off the charts. There is protein in the ham, calcium in the cheese, and potentially something probiotic happening if you use real buttermilk. But no one eats these for a balanced diet. They are what you eat when you need to feel held. When you’ve been ghosted, or it’s raining, or your team lost, or it’s Sunday and the world feels vaguely pointless. They’re balm. And butter.

You’re unlikely to find these at any place with exposed brick and minimalist menu boards. You have to go where the vinyl booths are cracked and the coffee never stops flowing. Maybe you’ll see them at a church breakfast or potluck in a paper tray next to devilled eggs and mystery casseroles. But mostly, you make them yourself. In a baking dish you inherited from someone named Edna. In a kitchen where nobody cares if you use measuring cups or just wing it.

Here’s how to make them. Brace yourself.

Ham and Cheese Butter Swim Biscuits Recipe

Ingredients:
2 1/2 cups plain flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups buttermilk (or Greek yoghurt thinned with milk if you must)
1/2 cup chopped cooked ham (preferably the thick, leftover roast sort)
1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese (grate it yourself for better melt)
1 stick (113g) unsalted butter, melted (plus extra if you’re feeling reckless)
Optional: a pinch of cayenne, a teaspoon of mustard powder, or a scattering of chives for flair

Instructions:
Preheat your oven to 220°C (425°F if you’re across the pond). Take an 8×8 inch baking dish and pour in the melted butter. All of it. No restraint. Tilt the dish if needed so every corner gets a buttery sheen. You want enough butter to make your ancestors whisper warnings.

In a large bowl, mix together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Stir in the buttermilk until a shaggy dough forms. It should look like it needs supervision. Gently fold in the ham and cheese, plus any extras you feel like including. This is not a time for perfection.

Plop the dough into the buttery baking dish. Use a spatula to nudge it into the corners, spreading it roughly. Don’t overthink it. The butter should start pooling up the sides and trying to escape. Let it. Score the dough into 9 squares using a knife. This helps with even cooking and the illusion of portion control.

Slide into the oven and bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until the top is gloriously golden and you can hear a faint sizzling from the butter underneath. Remove from the oven and let them rest for 10 minutes so you don’t burn your mouth (or soul).

Serve warm. Eat one straight from the pan, standing barefoot in your kitchen. Eat another with a fried egg. Give one to someone you love. Or don’t. Freeze the leftovers, though you probably won’t have any. Reheat in the oven to re-crisp the edges.

If there’s anything left after that, you’re stronger than the rest of us.

Enjoy your ham and cheese butter swim biscuits!