For some strange reason, the phrase ‘piggy biscuits’ has brought me untold joy today. Whisper it. Piggy biscuits. It’s Sow Day, the day on which pigs were slaughtered on Orkney in preparation for Yule. Which I wasn’t about to do. So I did my usual of co-opting of another tradition, or in this case two other traditions to make a folklore fudge. Or piggy biscuits.
Tradition number one, Sow Day. Tradition number two, mince-pigs, a Nottinghamshire Christmas confection shaped like a pig with a current for its eye. Tradition number three, gingerbread Christmas tree decorations. Et voilà, piggy biscuits.
This was a particularly easy gingerbread recipe. The only difficulty I had was the dough turned out more of a paste, so I had to add in more flour. Plus I kept eating the dough. Gingerbread dough is delicious. Then I thought my porkers were lacking in Christmas sparkle, so I dyed some sugar and sprinkled. Not an unmitigated success, but a little twinkle nonetheless.
The only real problem came when I was stringing them up, as several arses and eyes fell off. But enough worked and now I have three on my tree and the rest stashed in Tupperware to keep them firm for presents. Or elevenses.
And I have wheat! Well, two teeny shoots are poking through. I do love Nature.
And once again, I forgot about the shell. So I’m going to take a punt and say the shell is trying to tell me to slow down and not take so much on. Which sounds eminently sensible. If a little impractical right at this moment.
Whisper it. Piggy biscuits.
Cooper, Q. and Sullivan, P. (1994) Maypoles, Martyrs & Mayhem: 366 Days of British Myths, Customs & Eccentricities, London, Bloomsbury Publishing Plc