Read Recipes for Melissa for Free Online Page B

impression…?’
----
    A very loud clearing of the throat suddenly… ‘Excuse me. I’m sorry, madam. But I was wondering if you would like a drink?’ The steward’s raised tone confirmed this was not the first request. Melissa physically started. A couple of passengers turned as her foot hit the back of the seat in front.
    ‘Sorry. I’m so sorry. Miles away. Two bottles of water, please. Oh – and some crisps. Any flavour. Doesn’t matter.’ She turned back to Sam who stirred momentarily at the noise but then rolled his shoulder over, trying awkwardly to nestle into the headrest of his seat, still asleep – mouth now gaping.
    Melissa felt her pulse in her ear. The trolley trundled noisily past. A man stood up in the now vacant aisle to remove a small case from the overhead locker which made Melissa think again of all the luggage in the hold. The soft pink bag they bought at the kiosk. She was staring at the little cartons of crisps and then at the passengers across the aisle who had pre-ordered hot food. One older woman was tentatively dipping a plastic fork into what looked like some kind of pot roast. Or moussaka. Or lasagne. Or God knows what. It smelled terrible.
    And now Melissa was thinking – why food? Why had her mother filled a journal with recipes? Melissa was a pretty average, basic cook but not an enthusiastic one. She did not understand why people made such an unholy fuss in the kitchen. Did not really have the patience for it, or understand why people devoted so much time when there were so many good restaurants and takeaways. And Waitrose. I mean – why had her mother not simply written letters? A diary? When there was so very much to say?
    She twisted the cap from her bottle of water and took a swig.
    Why food?

    Easter Biscuits
    8 oz self-raising flour
    5 oz butter
    4 oz sifted castor or icing sugar
    1 medium egg
    Dash of good vanilla essence… or a touch of cinnamon is nice too.
    Preheat oven to 180 and grease baking trays. Sift flour and salt and rub into butter. Add sugar, plus your choice of flavouring, and mix. Add sufficient beaten egg to give a very stiff dough. Knead the dough lightly on a floured board until smooth. Wrap in foil and chill for 30 minutes. Roll out thinly and cut out circular biscuits. Place these on baking trays (not too close as they expand a bit) and prick with a fork. Bake for 12-15 minutes until pale gold.

    These are firm favourites, Melissa, and you just have to make them. Why they are called Easter biscuits as opposed to Christmas biscuits or Halloween biscuits, I have not the foggiest. Gran just called them Easter biscuits and so that is what they are (though very happily eaten all year round).
    I have my own particular memory of these and I am hoping you will too. For me they conjure up a very strong picture of a red, square biscuit tin which my mother kept on the second shelf of her larder (never the first or third; always the second – note). I guess that is what this book is partly about for me. Sharing and passing on to you things that I want to stay important. Family traditions and family memories. The continuum of stories at the stove, if you like. Generation to generation.
    My mother was a very good, basic cook, who was indignant, and quite possibly a little snobbish, about the arrival of packets and freezers and anything which carried a ‘convenience’ tag. True – she came from a generation who had the time and had not yet experienced the chaos of juggling career and family which made mine rather rethink the whole equality battle (that’s a whole chapter, for sure. I’ve started a big section on modern motherhood at the end of the book. I am imagining it may not interest you yet which is why I have set it apart, but I like the idea of leaving my thoughts and tips for when they become relevant to you). Anyway, Mum, bless her, had both the will and the time to cook and so cook she certainly did.
    These biscuits seemed to be available in our house as