Mallow memories E

VERY now and then, I find, an image comes to mind that fills one with such a feeling of happy reminiscence it’s hard to move past it.

For me it can be a number of things that make me stop in my tracks and gawp into the middledistance with a wistful smile on my face.

An old postcard of Whitby or the Bernese Alps, a pin badge collected in some resort in France or Spain, a long-forgotten rail ticket tucked into a book, or bits of old newspaper used to wrap something in a tea-chest in the attic.

I’m taken back to the exact time, and the feeling is utterly palpable, both happy and sad at the same time. It’s quite overpowering. And thrilling. Of course, famously, the great writer Marcel Proust wrote an entire raft of novels about such immersive feelings of nostalgia, the excellent ‘A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu’, and in particular the well-known ‘Madeleine episode’ in book one, ‘Swann’s Way’.

In it, the taste of a Madeleine cake dipped in tea evokes powerful memories of his childhood.

The author lies in bed, barely able to move for the evolving memory into which he is pulled.

Less dramatically, I happened upon a picture of a biscuit wrapper the other day, the sight of which immediately transported me back to my childhood and the carefree, squash-drinking, football crazy little kid I was back then.

The times in our lives when nothing ever really got better than one’s mum or dad providing us with a little plate of biscuits and a glass of pop.

So I decided to try and recreate these elusive biscuits.

I couldn’t really remember what they were called so I headed to Facebook to canvas opinion from my peers. Many different names came back. I, personally, remember them as MiniMallows, though I now think these were a supermarket own-brand version of a superior product.

An Irish friend knew them always as Mikados, and a little research bears this out – they began life in Ireland at the Jacob’s biscuit factory there, plus the name seems completely suitable, given the vaguely ‘cherry-blossom’ appearance and colours.

But the overwhelming consensus amongst friends was that in the UK they were known as Jamborees.

So there we are – today we’re making our own Jamborees.

A lovely crisp buttery biscuit base topped with sweet, fluffy marshmallow, a piping of raspberry jam and the whole thing then drenched in desiccated coconut.

An unmitigated success; the first bite I took would have given old Marcel a run for his money, reverie-wise.

That combination of flavours, the almost overwhelming sweetness, the scent of that coconut – it was perfect.

And now I know how to bake myself back in time, I think you should try it too.

Just remember to have a nice glass of weak orange squash handy for authenticity’s sake.