
Chef Thomas
All-Butter Shortbread Fingers
The plainest biscuit in the tin and the hardest one to stop eating, three ingredients and a slow oven turning good butter into something quietly perfect with a cup of tea.
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Created by Chef Thomas
Spiced ginger biscuits from Cornwall, crackled on top and chewy in the middle, the kind of thing you bake on a dark afternoon when the kitchen needs to smell of something warming.
These belong to October and November. The first proper cold, the smell of woodsmoke from somebody's chimney, the early dark that arrives before you've quite finished the day. There are biscuits for summer, light and crumbly, and there are biscuits for now. Cornish fairings are firmly the latter.
They were sold at fairs across Cornwall in the 1800s, bought in paper bags as treats and tokens, given as gifts when courting. I don't know much more about the history than that and I'm not going to pretend otherwise. What I do know is how they bake. The dough is soft and golden with syrup, the spices go in with a generous hand, and in the oven they spread and crack open across the top into deep, irregular fissures. The edges crisp. The middles stay chewy. The kitchen smells like the first week of December, even if it isn't.
I make a batch most years when the clocks go back. The afternoon goes dark at four, the kettle goes on, and a tray of these comes out of the oven still soft enough to bend. We're only making dinner, except this time we're making biscuits, and there's no real difference in the satisfaction of it. Putting a warm one into someone's hand with a mug of tea is one of the better things you can do on a Tuesday in November.
I wrote it down in the notebook the first time I got them right. Just three words: ginger, syrup, crack. That was enough to remember by.
Quantity
200g
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
2 teaspoons
Quantity
2 teaspoons
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
100g
cold and cubed
Quantity
100g
Quantity
4 tablespoons
Quantity
pinch
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| plain flour | 200g |
| bicarbonate of soda | 1 teaspoon |
| baking powder | 2 teaspoons |
| ground ginger | 2 teaspoons |
| mixed spice | 1 teaspoon |
| ground cinnamon | 1 teaspoon |
| unsalted buttercold and cubed | 100g |
| golden caster sugar | 100g |
| golden syrup | 4 tablespoons |
| fine sea salt | pinch |
Set the oven to 180C/160C fan. Line two baking trays with parchment. Don't skimp on the parchment. These biscuits spread, and they spread enthusiastically, and you want them peeling away cleanly when they're done.
Sift the flour, bicarbonate, baking powder, ginger, mixed spice, cinnamon, and salt into a large bowl. Give it a stir with your fingers and have a sniff. The kitchen should already smell of Christmas markets and bonfire smoke. If it doesn't, your spices have been in the cupboard too long. Open new ones.
Add the cubed butter to the dry ingredients. Rub it in with your fingertips, lifting and dropping the mixture as you go, until it looks like fine breadcrumbs. No big lumps. Cold hands help. If the butter starts to feel greasy and soft, put the bowl in the fridge for ten minutes and come back to it.
Stir in the sugar. Then add the golden syrup, straight from the tin, and bring everything together with a wooden spoon and then your hands. The dough will feel soft and slightly sticky, the colour of pale toffee. If it's too dry to come together, add another teaspoon of syrup. Trust your fingers. They know the right consistency before your head does.
Take walnut-sized pieces of dough and roll them between your palms into smooth balls. About the size of a generous cherry. Set them on the trays with plenty of space between them, at least five centimetres. They will spread to roughly twice their size and crack open across the top as they bake. That's what you want.
Bake for ten to twelve minutes. Watch the second tray closely. They're ready when they've spread out flat, the tops have crackled into deep fissures, and the edges have gone a proper deep amber. They will still be soft in the middle when you take them out. This is correct. Pull them too early and they're cakey; leave them too long and they go brittle.
Leave them on the tray for five minutes when they come out of the oven. They're too soft to move at first and will tear if you try. As they cool, they firm up and the edges go properly crisp while the middle stays chewy. Then transfer to a wire rack with a palette knife. Eat one warm. It's the cook's right.
1 serving (about 21g)
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