Wednesday, 28 July 2010
As children, one of our favourite biscuits were called, of all things, 'Slugs'. (I've yet to meet anyone else from another family that has memories of these biscuits).
6 oz (200g) butter
3 ozs (100g) sugar
1/2 pound (250g) flour
1 tbsp coconut
1 tsp cream of tartar
1 sm tsp baking soda
Beat butter and sugar to a cream, add egg (beaten) and flour mixed with coconut, B. soda & cream of tartar. Take a tbsp of mixture and roll with hands on a board sprinkled with coconut into sm. rolls. place on a greased slide (oven tray) and bake in a slow oven until (just) golden brown. When cooled, join tog. with plain icing.
This recipe is my mother's contribution to an old Orepuki WDFF recipe book. My sister has copied off the whole recipe book so we can enjoy reading the old -fashioned recipes. (I am interested to see that the oven tray, for example, was called a 'slide'. I wonder if that was a Scottish or an English term?
A lot of the sayings and terms we used or heard, long gone now, came from the matriarchal side of my family and were either the Scottish way of saying things, or the English. My father had Irish grandparents, so he'd come out with an Irish term every so often.(For example his way of saying, "greetings" for "hello" was possibly of Irish origin).
My Nana (whose parents were of Scottish and English origin) used to always say she was going to 'do the messages' when she went off with her cane basket to get anything from the shop. And she always called the pictures (movies) 'fil-i-ms.'
To us kids, a sandwich after school was a 'piece' - preferably with golden syrup on it.
When I bake Slugs (a seldom occurrence) I feel I am in some small way, recapturing that long-ago time when rushing home from school meant a raid on the cake tins to find Slugs, or Jumble, or Yo-yos. Or if there was no baking to be had, to make ourselves a 'piece' dripping with golden syrup. (And on particularly cold and wintry days, maybe Mum would have a pot of milky Milo simmering at the back of the coal range).
When we moved to where we went to school and home again on a school bus, if the driver, Mr Fulton from Freshford, saw that the car wasn't in its usual spot in front of the garage (a sign that our mother was away somewhere) he'd shout, "Ooh, look out cake tins, here we come!" And he was right - the minute we got in the door it was time to head for the cake tins. And if Mum was indeed away from the scene, we'd help ourselves to more than one Slug each. Ah, they were such simple times.
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