- Here it says «A cake». That's probably the biscuit. I didn't know what to call them when I wrote this recipe, so I called them «A cake». Meet Magna Helene Anderesen who makes biscuits.
Now I'm going to see if I can find this recipe for biscuits. When I wrote the recipe, we didn't have chickens, so we didn't put eggs in them either. There were no eggs to be found. There was a lady down there with Samuelsberg, she had chickens, but only for her own use.
A cake
(4 eggs)
1 stick of margarine
4 tablespoons syrup
2 cups of milk
3 or 4 cups of sugar
2 tsp deer salt
Enough flour to prevent the dough from becoming too soft, but it shouldn't be rock hard either.
You can use any mould you like to stick the biscuit out. They're in the oven until they're ready to brown. You'll see.
I used to have a big bowl of cookie dough like this back in the day. Because there used to be a lot of people here. But since the arrival of the TV, they don't have time to go out to the farm anymore. They'd rather sit at home to see what's on the telly. Before, we didn't have TV or radio. People came to the kitchen. If there wasn't enough chairs, they'd sit round on the floor. And the conversation was lively and they often told horror stories.
And then he told one story after another. One of the stories was so crude that when they sat against the wall, they fled to the basement hatch. They couldn't bear to sit there in the corner.
There was a man, he was a widow, and had so many tales of woe. He had a hatch in the middle of the kitchen floor. A square hatch. You could lift the hatch up and get potatoes. When the autumn evenings grew dark, young people would gather there with him. The old man only had one eye. The other eye was probably damaged from work. In the old days, you couldn't just go to the doctor. So he only had one eye, but he said he could see just as clearly with one eye as with two. And then he told one story after another. One of the stories was so crude that when they sat against the wall, they fled to the basement hatch. They didn't dare sit there in the corner. They couldn't. They could sit for hours and listen to the story. After listening to the story, many didn't dare to go home. It was nice when you went to visit each other.
With good people, I made it in this world. Because they were good neighbours. «Good neighbours are our daily bread.»
The recipe is taken from the book «Seven varieties - stories from the kitchen counter», produced by the Centre for Northern Peoples in collaboration with Reni Jasinski Wright.
