Editor’s letter

The biscuit tin holds a different meaning for each of us. To some, a quick dip of the hand into the tin is the perfect solution when they’re in need of a litte pick-me-up. For others it serves as the bridge between lunch and dinner. In my life, the biscuit tin is a symbol of love and care. Let me tell you about my relationship with this icon.

I couldn’t wait to begin my studies. At the Institute of Culinary Arts (ICA) in Stellenbosch, heaven, as I imagined it, awaited me. Months before I loaded my white Uno for the long road to the Cape, my mother started preparing everything for her youngest to leave the nest. She thought of every possible scenario I might encounter, and filled and labelled an ice-cream container for each situation: one for cleaning shoes, one for sewing, one for medication, another for cleaning my room…

And then there was the biscuit tin, or I should say the biscuit trunk! Huge ice-cream tubs filled with all my favourites, neatly packaged with wax paper between the layers. You name it, there was a container full: rusks, Florentines, oat crunchies, coffee biscuits, Hertzoggies… Everything carefully planned to help me through the first term. Here and there she hid neat little notes among the biscuits to remind me how much she and my father loved me.

I buried the treasure deep in my cupboard because it was mine and mine alone. But as the days passed, I made new friends who became like loved ones and with whom I eventually shared my secret trove of comforts. After class, early morning or in between classes someone would pop in for a quick “hug” from my mom. Naturally this meant that I had to call home after one month to report that the biscuit tin was empty and the heart full of homesickness. But, typical of Mom, she was already busy baking my next stash. She knew that, like her, I share with those around me. A few days after my call, the ICA office informed me that there was a package for me. The fresh consignment brought with it the feeling of Christmas – we all gathered on the floor to open the box. Notes of longing flew from the package and tubs full of comfort were passed around. Within minutes everyone had courage for the second month because my mom’s hugs stood in for everybody’s loved ones who were far.

So, here it is: 100 hugs from me to each of you. Made with love and baked with care, so that you, too, can share the love wherever you go.

Happy baking and enjoy dipping every biscuit in a good cup of tea or coffee… And, yes, you’re allowed to use condensed milk instead of milk, and have more than one biscuit – because there is not enough love in this world!

Till next time, Herman

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Danielle, Tjaart and I baked day in and day out, not only to photograph the 100 biscuit recipes for this magazine, but also to package the results and share them with Durbanville Children’s Home in Cape Town. The joy on those children’s faces nullified every single trouble or care we may have had. When you bake these biscuits, why not share some with children in need?