Spong song (Advent 4)

Is now the time for frivolity? Not really, but it's all I've got, and I hope it may be in the line of a offering a little cheer. I realise wanton baking exploits might not be welcome to those who are suddenly having to sort out shopping/deliveries at short notice when they thought they were going to be fed elsewhere for a few days. What a mess.

I mentioned previously that I have a Christmas spice mix problem, and I'm here to report that it's only getting worse. Last week I wanted to get stuck into the rye and wholemeal flours I've not been touching much recently, so I had a hunt around for gingerbread-y recipes based on those rather than white flour. The result seemed to be French pain d'épices, at least in this version. I do not, however, trust US grain marketing boards for their French spice intel, so I hunted around again to see what I should be using. In the process I've learnt the French for star anise (étoiles de badiane), which is fun. 

But the thing is, I don't have a spice grinder. I KNOW. How have I made it this far?! But, in scouring the garage for something entirely different last weekend I was reminded that the chap has not only the electric coffee grinder now resident in the kitchen, but also a manual coffee grinder. And not any coffee grinder, no. A vintage Spong he lovingly restored and repainted some years ago. 

Spong! I love saying the word. SPONG!

My hunch was correct, and it grinds up coriander seed and star anise and cloves and all that very nicely indeed. And the resulting mix smells divine.

The pain d'épices is an easy cook, though not quite as healthy as a rye/wholemeal bake might be, being made mostly of honey. (There's a Great British Chefs website recipe which admonishes to use the best honey possible. Which if you're made of money, maybe...) It keeps well, and isn't nearly as crumbly as it looks. 

Also this week: your annual reminder that if you turn gingerbread men upside down and ice them appropriately, they turn into reindeer! The prepared cook has jelly diamonds/smarties/skittles for the noses. But this cook ran out of honey a week ago and has been streaking through the golden syrup at an alarming rate as a result, so it's no surprise that my reindeer all have white noses.

These biscuits are being strung up on parcel ribbon because they are Christmas Tree Biscuits, from 'Recipes from a Polish Kitchen' by Bridget Jones (not that one). They're dead simple to make: heat honey (again!) and spices (cinnamon, ginger, cloves); add to butter, flour, bicarb, egg yolk; chill; roll; cut; bake briefly.

They're marvelously crisp when first cooled, but do get a bit soggy after a few days on the tree. On the other hand, they fragrance the room beautifully. This year I'm icing and hanging them in batches and keeping the others fresh in a tupperware in between times.

For several years making a batch of these was the marker of having made it home from uni/grown up life for Christmas. Not a childhood thing though, because we had dogs then and didn't hand edibles on the tree. Or any of the good baubles at or below tail height. This year I wasn't sure I'd make any, but the chap requested them specially. So who's to argue? We all need our favourite Christmas things if we can lay hands on them.