(This kitchen is not big enough. It is too effing hot. The dough is melting in my fingers.)
It all started well enough; I did have all the ingredients, tools was arranged and ready, and I could already imagine tasting the result and being whisked away to my childhood days, ransacking the biscuit cupboard when my mother wasn't watching. Instead I found myself poking the way too soft dough, adding a bit more flour and starting to despair, feeling the approaching disaster. No amount of flour seemed to make the difference and I could feel my brain melting with the dough in the incredible heat. What bullshit is this? Why did I ever start doing this in the first place? And what is to be done now? I could not admit defeat.
After huffing and puffing and a good lot of swearing, my brain worked long enough to send me the message that it was probably a good idea to stick the dough in the fridge for a while. But of course! I knew that.
And hey presto! After a little while it was possible to roll the dough without it constantly sticking onto the table and finish my work.
They are probably not the prettiest biscuits you've ever seen but if the taste is ok, I don't really care.
And finally they're ready. Filled with Mon Cheri's homemade apricot jam.And they were good, hooray! Mon Cheri is delighted, trying desperately to limit himself for only one biscuit per day.
As they say, the proof is in the pudding!


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