If you had to ask me what one of my favourite childhood memories is, I’d say biscuit baking. It’s something that I did with my mom and sometimes my brother, and even our nanny when my mom was sick.
We had a butter biscuit recipe (I featured the recipe here on Rattle and Mum) and while I don’t remember really making the dough, I recall rolling it, and cutting it into shapes, and sometimes sprinkling vermicelli or hundreds and thousands over them.
I *think* we had around four plastic biscuit cutters – a circle, a square, a triangle and a hexagon, and when we became bored or had cut out tens of biscuits into the usual-suspect shapes, we would make our own shapes, or roll them into letters of our names.
I don’t even remember eating them – it was just the pleasure of doing something so fun, and so “simple” that fuelled me.
On Sunday, incidentally World Baking Day, we baked some biscuits. Last time we tried you lost interest, but this time, you helped me measure ingredients, you cracked the eggs, you rolled the dough, and you cut the dough into shapes. You even cleaned the counter with a wet cloth, and refused to try a biscuit until you’d done a perfect job).
These moments are so precious, and I savour them. I hope you too will one day have happy childhood memories of “simple” moments in which, without distractions, we measured, sifted, mixed, cut, shaped, iced and decorated. And that the only clock we watched was the one on the oven. And that the only “worry” we had was keeping the food out of reach from Henri, the jumping and eager puppy.
This is what connects me to a simpler, different time, and I’m so privileged to experience that with you.
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