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    That principle concerns Biscuits and their position in the world.

    We are really very keen on biscuits.
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    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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    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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A Biscuit Friday

I was cleaning my room, when I came upon a forgotten set of plastic biscuit forms.

There was a rabbit, a star, a moon and other shapes.

It reminded me of Biscuit Friday tradition I enjoyed through my childhood.

Lets travel back in time…

It was Friday. Always.

Not any Friday though, but Friday before family meeting, special ocasion, or at least Friday when Mum had time.

First, Mum prepared the dough. Then, it was my turn.

I would snatch the rolling-pin, and roll, roll till the dough was really flat.

Then the forms where applied, till I had cut out dozens of little, cute shapes.

Did we throw away the scraps? No, of course not.

Mum would take them, roll, tweak and work – until she came up with a sculpture.

Part of the fun was guessing what would emerge. It was always something different.

By general, unspoken agreement it was always called The Biscuit.

Baking seemed to take really long, with me eyeing the biscuits in the oven every minute or so.

I was not finished yet.

Just before the baking was over, I would paint them with egg yolk to make sure they were properly shiny.

Then came the most difficult part of the process – not touching the biscuits before the weekend.

Keeping my hands away of that huge bowl was sure challenging.

When we finally munched on and enjoyed the biscuits, I made sure everyone knew how essential my help had been.

I will keep those old forms.

They will come handy in a few years, when I’ll introduce my (future) kids to the glorious tradition of The Biscuit Friday.

Dominika Styczyńska: Vegetable Corner

5 Responses

  1. Lovely way to start the weekend early

  2. My Polish forebears (only a couple of generations back) used to produce some wonderful biscuits but would never share the recipe. There was alway a hint of cinnamon, citrus & cloves but what more I never found out.

    Is yours a family secret or are you prepared to share ?

  3. Whenever I made biscuits with my mum I looked forward to eating the doughy scraps ‘raw’. I also used to eat raw potato. The thought of eating either of these makes me feel quite queasy now.

  4. I don’t remember having any Polish biscuits. On special occasions everything else would more than make up for lack of biscuits. Am I allowed to say that here?

    Gingerbread, plum jam doughnuts, prunes in chocolate, fudge (krowki), cheesecake, poppyseed cake… All ‘polished’ off before we tucked into dessert.

  5. A beautiful activity to share with your children. Making memories as well as biscuits – lovely. A sweet post upon which to enter the weekend, a cold, wet, blustery one at that!

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