The taste of Joy.
My day started with a disappointing rusk.
No big deal you may say. Well you would be wrong. It is a Very Big Deal and I’m struggling to get my day back on track, to be honest.
My coffee and rusk in the morning is a sacrosanct ritual. Enjoying it quietly in bed, first thing in the morning is The Ultimate. Add in a book and a view of the bush and my soul is at peace. In case you are wondering, this does not happen often, but when it has, it is a visceral experience that I can call to mind easily. It’s a feeling.
So even when I’m having my coffee & rusk on the go, while sorting out breakfasts, making snack boxes and communicating the days logistics to all in earshot (i.e. most mornings), my day is grounded in that mug & little dried biscuit the counter next to me.
So yes, I am particular about my rusk. It has to be Just Right. Filling enough to get me through til mid-morning, not too floury or it will drop off into your coffee, not too hard or no amount of dunking is going to rescue it, healthy enough (but hold back on the bran flakes), not to sweet (don’t talk to me about choc-chips, that’s a cookie, not a rusk!!) but enough sweetness for a little Joy to start the day.
Everyone has their favourite.
Mine are Auntie Hanky’s.
Auntie Who? Well, if my memory of the Boyes Family tree is correct and I wouldn’t bet on that, Auntie Hanky was my dad’s Aunt. As a child, I knew she lived far, far away, because we didn’t see her often. I have floral dresses and knitted jerseys attached to my vague memories.
And rusks.
See, Auntie Hanky baked for the Plettenberg Bay Tuisnywerheid (Afrikaans word of the day – Home Industry) and she gifted my mother with her rusk recipe when my parents visited Nature’s Valley on their first caravan holiday as newly-weds. My mom baked them now & then and it was always an occasion to ask about the slightly mythical Aunty Hanky and get my mom reminiscing about those caravanning trips, while my brother & I tried to eat as much of the rusk dough as we could while she was distracted.
Baking your own rusks is a labour of love and with the escalating cost of electricity, will add a chunk to your power bill (and cause load shedding to move up a few stages). They have to bake, cool down and then dry out “in a slow oven for many hours”.
But not too many, ‘cos then you end up with gum-ripper rusks…
Auntie Hanky’s recipe is a Bulk Recipe – for context, it requires 5 tablespoons of baking powder (if you bake, you will Know) and I am sure that mixing that by hand is what caused the need (knead??) for my mom’s later shoulder surgery.
Now days, it takes planning around load shedding schedules, availability of eggs and gluten-free flours (the right ones, not just the pre-mixed, tapioca flour nonsense).
Because of my requisite for a Good Rusk every morning, and it seems that I am a tad on the fussy side about my rusks, I have baked these often enough to be able to recite Auntie Hanky’s recipe by heart. Which doesn’t mean I’m not capable of stuffing them up…
So back to my disappointing rusk.
I haven’t had time, gluten-free flour or a good window to consider baking since the last batch ran out. So when I visited the health shop for the flour I needed and was offered a not-previously-sampled option, I felt it was in the interests of objectivity and alternatives, that I should give them a go. The kids were rampaging through the shop with their hands in / on everything and the very delicate Easter display looked at risk, so my due-diligence check was a bit interrupted.
And I discovered my error this morning. Not only were they hard to the point of chipping a tooth even when double-dipped, but “Sugar” was missing from the ingredients list.
No Joy whatsoever, just Disappointment and a scoured palate.
So if anyone has ideas for repurposing tasteless buttermilk rusks, please do share. In the meantime, I’ll be baking some Good Rusks – pop around for coffee & a chat, and I might even share the recipe! 😉