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|Jane from High Wycombe
||Dear Nicey - I emailed the other day to warble on about my early biscuit memories but so far no place in your hall of fame. Maybe this is because I incorrectly named Bickie Pegs as Toothy pegs. I've been worrying all week in case they were really a rusk. Someone out there must remember them. They were for teething babies - skinny and about two inches long with a hole at the end (the biscuit not the baby). This hole had a dual purpose. Firstly for threading a ribbon through which was then pinned to the child's matinee jacket. Secondly as an early Health and Safety device where the ribbon (still attached to the biscuit - pay attention) could be deployed to haul said biscuit out of gullet in a choking situation. Marvellous - we were tough in those days. Also I've just thought of Playtime biscuits. They were iced in attractive colours and had animals and toys on them in white icing. Also Morning Coffee. A bit boring if the truth be told, but they had an impression of a steaming coffee pot on the top and it was quite fun to nibble round the shape. We always had them with tea which was strange. Finally - something more up to date. What about Cafe Noir? Rather sophisticated I thought. Ooh and the Toffee Yo-Yo. I could go on but I won't. Your site is a form of biscuit porn and I am on the Atkins diet. Crumbs! |
|Nicey replies: As a child I had bickie pegs, I remember my Mum telling me about them, she used to just hang them round my neck. This could explain a lot.
We have some biscuits in from South Africa that sound like Playtime biscuits that we will be reviewing in a week or two so watch out for that.
|A tribute to Garibaldi biscuits.|
When our family goes camping we always pack plenty of Garibaldi biscuits. They're robust enough to withstand the journey rammed into the boot of the car, all the family enjoy them and, most importantly of all, if you inadvertently leave them outside the tent after an evening of star gazing (which requires biscuits of course) they still taste good with your morning cuppa (although you no longer need to dunk them !).
|Nicey replies: Yay! for biscuits and stargazing.|
|Rachel & Duncan
||Hello Nicey (are you?),|
this is a mug related story. A tale of mug obsession, nay, mug torment.
I used to work in a barn (the doors were always left open) and the barn had a tea room for the comrade workers. Outside of the barn, by the tea room, were very large greenhouses. When it rained the run-off was collected in a little, deep and manky reservoir inbetween the greenhouses and the tea room.
Margaret cleaned the barn tea room. Margaret was particularly obsessed with cleaning mugs. She knew every mug in the tea room cupboard. People regularly hid their mug on a friday so that she wouldn't clean it over the weekend as she cleaned them with toilet bleach. The hiding of mugs infuriated her so much that if she found one in your locality she would really explode, hug
the mug to her chest and run off to the sink with it.
One friday, the tractor drivers decided to play a little game. She'd managed to find all of the mugs, except one. She looked everywhere, she accused everyone, she raged. She couldn't find it in the barn and started to search about outside. Then she found it, the look of abject defeat on her face, the tantalising closeness yet impossibility of reaching it, she had been beaten.
The tractor drivers had floated it out on a pallet into the middle of the reservoir.
It stayed there a very long time.
||A non-tea drinking chum just put me onto your site! I couldn't resist your invitation to relate a purloined mug story:|
It's not just the design of the mug, it's the size. I know EXACTLY how much tea I NEED in the a.m. When I visit friends or family I have been known to rummage the cupboard for "the right mug" or bring one as a gift (to be saved for subsequent visits).
Among the faves I've taken to the office is patterned with zebras - not tacky, very artful, beautiful, in fact. One morning I opened the office cabinet where such items are stored, and NO ZEBRA MUG! At the time I worked for a rather large firm of architects. It is a messy business, architecture. I rampaged up and down the aisles, searching, upturning piles of sample books, drawings and sample boards until I found it! The young man who was guilty of taking the zebra mug out of the cabinet was stunned as I read him the Riot Act. He was still speechless and motionless as I grabbed the half-full mug (coffee - yecch) and marched back to the kitchen to sanitize and reconsecrate MY mug.
My current office mug features a sassy looking woman who proclaims, "I want it all, and I want it delivered".
Kimberley and Chocolate Kimberley Review
Steady on now. I cant believe your report on the Kimberley. Maybe you're missing the point here. The softness you refer to Im sure, is intentional, as it appears Jacobs are targeting the indistinct gap between the biscuit and the cake. I suppose the Wagon Wheel and Jaffa Cake would also fall into this category, although they have a definite crispiness which isn't so apparent in the Kimberley. I wouldnt classify any of these as cakes, more like Luxury Biscuits.
BTW there's only one biscuit better than the Kimberley, and that's the Chocolate Kimberley. Being individually wrapped, you know youre getting quality here. They're normally kept for special occasions such as Birthdays and Christmas. Certainly in our house, both varieties are strictly out of bound for children and visitors alike.
Once again the wife (English) cant see what all the fuss is about. Never mind, we're off to Ireland next month to see the folks and bring back a fresh supply of Kimberleys. Mmmmmmm!!
|Nicey replies: It seems increasingly evident that there is a 'Kimberley gene' possessed by the Irish, but nobody else. We get a few mails now and again from Americans who like them. I rest my case.
I really did want to like them too.