Known as @LilyLouTay on social media, Hannah Taylor makes you feel as though you’d better hitch your wagon to her star or you’ll be missing out on something wonderful.
With a love for music, an endearing charm, and an unsurpassed appreciation of good food, you’ll find yourself binge-watching her just to absorb the endorphins. I subscribed to her videos and was excited to sign up for her new Substack account.
The subheading was simple and sweet: “For the honeys who know a good biscuit is worth a full investigation.” She made me smile right out of the gate. But it was the first sentence that let me know that I was in for something special.
“There’s a little diner about fifteen minutes from our house,“ she wrote. ”The kind of place that still brings you coffee in those thick ceramic mugs that warm your hands just right.” I knew that mug, and I could feel the warmth of the cup in my hand. I wanted more.
She continued: “We sat down in a booth that had seen a thousand stories before ours—cracked vinyl seats, a sugar caddy that rattled when you touched it, a waitress named Linda who called me ‘baby’ before I’d even said hello. Heaven.”
I was hooked. Somewhere back in time, I’d sat in that booth, used that sugar caddy, and had a heartfelt conversation with Linda. I felt like I was visiting with an old friend.
Within this captivating scene, Hannah was about to reverse-engineer some biscuits that she said had made her “stop mid-sentence.” She described them as “golden but not too crisp, fluffy but not cake-like, salty in that ‘did they use butter or bacon grease or both?’ kind of way.” After some experiments in her kitchen, she came up with a recipe and shared it with the “honeys” who follow her. Yet, true to her style, it would prove to be the road to the recipe that made the trip worthwhile.
I contacted Hannah to see if she had hired some big public relations firm to craft the wonderfully candid, heartfelt writing I’d read on Substack. But no, it’s just more creativity from the mind of Hannah Taylor.
“From the sentimental stuff to the silly deep dives on diner biscuits and scalloping adventures, it’s all me,” she told me. “Usually with a sweet tea in one hand and a kid hollering in the background.”
Her husband, on the other hand, is a necessary ingredient if you’re whipping up anything LilyLouTay. Hannah is married to the man she lovingly calls by his full name, “James Taylor”—the jack-of-all-trades from southern Georgia, not the singer.
“He’s my real life ‘Sweet Baby James,’ and calling him that just stuck,” she told me.
“Pretty soon, we were writing paragraphs like we were in our own little Southern version of a Nicholas Sparks movie,“ Hannah wrote. ”Except with way more sarcasm and far fewer perfectly timed rainstorms.”
I’d like to say that this was the post that brought a tear to my eye, but it wasn’t. I cried reading “Biscuit Investigation.” I can’t explain it; there’s just something about the way she writes.
It’s no surprise that companies such as Williams Sonoma and Aldi have reached out to get in on the action.
Hannah designed a spatula for Williams Sonoma’s No Kid Hungry campaign, with all proceeds going toward fighting childhood hunger.
When Aldi reached out, “it just seemed like a natural fit,” she told me.
“I love being able to show my community how to make beautiful, comforting meals without breaking the bank,“ Hannah said. ”We’ve worked on some fun things together, and I hope there’s more to come.”
Hannah Taylor makes the world a better place. I dare you to take a picture of yourself after you’ve just watched a LilyLouTay video—I guarantee that you’ll be smiling.
This is how Hannah summed it up for me: “I never set out to be anything fancy. I just wanted to tell stories, feed folks, and maybe remind people that there’s still so much goodness in the small things. So, if something I say or share makes someone feel a little more seen or a little less alone, then I’ll keep showing up every day, heart wide open.”
