• The Tenuous Purpose

    This Blog is built - not, as some might expect, on a flimsy whim but on a strong and single minded principle.

    That principle concerns Biscuits and their position in the world.

    We are really very keen on biscuits.
    As are many of you out there.
    We think.

    We wish to create an archive of Arrowroot, a backlog of Bourbons and a catalogue of Chocolate Fingers. Anybody can contribute an entry - or dispute somebody else's - provided they are not dull.
    Even Americans who perhaps don't really have the heritage of biscuitry that we are fortunate to have here.

    Or maybe they do and we are unaware of the full glory of the cookie.

    We realise that this whole subject is admirably and concisely dealt with by that excellent and unbeatable website A Nice Cup of Tea and a Sit Down. Our feeble efforts will be as the kicking of a gadfly in the face of their wisdom and experience but we hope that we may have a small contribution to make.

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    James Alexander-Sinclair of Blackpitts
    Gardener, Blogger, Journalist, Lecturer etc, etc. Much of his life is spent loafing around other people’s gardens issuing directives and generally cluttering up the place. However, like the great Mr Kipling, he does (occasionally) make exceptionally good gardens. (Although even Mr Kipling messed up a bit with the Carrot and Walnut Mini Classics.)

    Mark Diacono of Otter Farm
    He does sterling work growing many inappropriate plants in Devon. He dedicates a great deal of time and effort nurturing a plethora of plants that are (mostly) totally unsuited to our climate. His is a life of such extreme eccentric dedication that to start a Blog about Biscuits seems perfectly normal. He treads gently in the footsteps of people like the great William Buckland,a professor of Geology who claimed that he could tell location by tasting the local topsoil.

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Biscuits and Ramadan

I have a tale to tell, I feel it needs to be shared as often the humble biscuit is not seen as the true embodiment of happiness and strength that it can be.

Let me explain.

December 2000, my now husband and I were in Morocco on a quickie holiday to the sun whilst the depression of winter hung over Northern Ireland. Not a drop of rain, not a cloud in the sky, not a bureau de change to be found open. Ah, Ramadan. We did once manage to find a kind gent in the hotel we staid at who opened up for a few precious hours one day and travellers’ cheques were exchanged in haste. Thanks goodness we had gone to a half board hotel or by then I fear we would have died, though at least we would have been together…. thinner by far (as of course the food was disgusting) but together in our sadness.

The holiday went well, I more or less exchanged all my cheques into ‘real’ Moroccan money and thus was flush, Andrew on the other hand had only transformed some of his – silly boy. I therefore ended up buying all sorts of blankets and trinkets for him to take home and had nothing for myself. This I could cope with; I am a gracious, selfish angel placed on this earth to bring joy to all who come into my path.

The last day arrived and mixed emotions rose to the surface. I truly, deeply wanted something, anything small to take home as a memento of my travels. We dandered to the shop across the way whilst waiting for the coach to come and whisk us away to the unhappy building that is an airport. But I was also starving and very warm. I bought water (2 litres, NO disgusting bubbles), it was a necessity, then with my last few coins, well they looked so good, I needed their comforting presence in my life……2 crispy, crumbly round buttery biscuits stuck together with the most wondrous chocolate ganache. Dear God I wish I knew their name or even the name of the company that made them, joy was what I bought (often believed to be impossible to buy with mere money). Joy in a fat shiny packet; shared with my loved one with a little water ~ the holiday was complete. It is my favourite memory of the whole experience away, unfortunately I never got a keepsake out of it, I polished them all off and the wrapper was taken from me by an over zealous cleaning lady; she just didn’t understand the crazy Irish girl who wanted to keep her rubbish, there was a tussle but I won’t go into that, it is slightly embarassing.

I will always remember that first bite….


4 Responses

  1. A Romany cream perhaps? you dont mention whether the biscuit itself is chocolate.

  2. The biscuit itself was just plain biscuit-y. The chocolate was the creamest sexiest chocolate ever! They were probably really cheap, crappy things but my god I was in heaven. Found something similar in Normandy last week but again, damn it I didn’t think to keep the wrapper. What is wrong with me????!!!!!

  3. Is a Romany Cream the politically correct version of the Gipsy Cream? Thanks to A Nice Cup Of Tea and a Sit Down I can point you towards a picture…http://www.nicecupofteaandasitdown.com/news/?id=144
    Is this the mystery biscuit?

  4. No no, the biscuit bits where creamy in colour, round, with soft scallopped edges and small holes in them. They were not so much of the crunchy texture but the crisp crumbly nature of a wafer (only more substantial). The chocolate in the middle of the sandwhich did look like that of a Gipsy Cream but I doubt they have that same velvety, gooey texture. The mystery continues. Boy it is great thinking about them again though…

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