It was one of those opportunities that could not be passed. My young daughter blinked at me with big eyes, after she looked at her fairy book with recipes and drawings of the magical moment. Can we have a tea party right now? With her little brother interested as well, I relented. We chose one of the several recipes of which I was sure we had all the ingredients. (I was not too interested in dipping violet petals in sugar water and eating them, even if we'd had any violet petals handy.)Looking at the recipes, I noticed the primary measurements were in metric, so figured the book was probably from England. One ...
It was one of those opportunities that could not be passed. My young daughter blinked at me with big eyes, after she looked at her fairy book with recipes and drawings of the magical moment. Can we have a tea party right now? With her little brother interested as well, I relented. We chose one of the several recipes of which I was sure we had all the ingredients. (I was not too interested in dipping violet petals in sugar water and eating them, even if we'd had any violet petals handy.)Looking at the recipes, I noticed the primary measurements were in metric, so figured the book was probably from England. One glance at the back proved the first price to be in U.K. pounds. We also noticed they recommended "caster" sugar, of which I was unfamiliar. My daughter guessed it might be confectioner's sugar, so I thought we best look it up. Sure enough, it was "chiefly British," but ended up being finely granulated sugar. So with our translations in hand (using the cup measurements in parentheses), we headed for the kitchen to make "Shaped Biscuits." I figured we could have them with butter and jam. I love flaky biscuits, and thought it might be fun making them from scratch for the first time instead of using Bisquick or one of those pop cans.
I had one of those rare moments of complete mother patience as I allowed my children to make not only the biscuits, but quite a mess as well. They cooperated well, taking turns measuring and stirring, while I interjected teaspoons of wisdom here and there: Use the half measuring cup three times instead of getting out the one-cup and half-cup. Use the back of a knife to swipe off the top of the cup. Yes, one-third two times is two-thirds. Hot water rinses off grease better than cold water. Give your brother a turn. No, we only use the sifter for flour.
The children rolled out the stiff dough, and I pulled out the cookie cutters. I figured different shaped biscuits might be more fun than just round ones, so I helped them choose larger simple designs that might have a chance of being recognizable after the biscuits rose and fluffed out. My daughter chose flowers and butterflies to go with the theme, and my son chose a teapot and a sun. They rolled and stamped and rolled again. They rolled the dough quite thin, but I figured I would just watch the oven so the thinner ones did not burn. As we placed them on the pan, I reminded the children that they were biscuits and not cookies, even though they quite resembled cookies after using the cutters. They reassured me that they knew.
I cleaned up some while the children worked on a second batch of biscuits, shaping more butterflies and a Pooh bear with eyeballs. One of my son's suns broke in half as I transferred it to the second pan, and he cried out in dismay. Quickly turning it broken-side down, I said, "It's a setting sun!" He smiled in agreement. Crisis averted.
I checked the oven a few times, but the biscuits were not rising or changing shape at all. I knew we had followed the recipe exactly, so I figured the children must have just rolled them too thin, just over a quarter-inch. I took them out when they started to look a little dry and figured I would just have to explain to the children that sometimes it is the process, not the product. We had enjoyed ourselves making them after all. So our biscuits were little bricks. Maybe we could dunk them in peppermint tea to soften them. I broke off a corner of the setting sun and put it in my mouth. It immediately melted like soft butter, infusing a gentle sweetness like a light breeze on a spring day. It brought me back to my early days on my own, when I would bake my favorite shortbread recipe and drink Earl Grey...
Then it hit me like the swift heel of a hand on my forehead. I turned to my daughter with big eyes and said, "The British call cookies biscuits!"