Mid-autumn, mid-week and militantly mordant, could Anzac Day be more miserable?
Yes it could, thanks to Anzacs and Afghans, both sad excuses for national biscuits that not even Griffins can bring itself to name. In 2020 the company declared the Afghan as racist and replaced it with Milk Chocolate Roughs.
The biscuits are wheeled out this time of year to commemorate our history of military hits and misses. The Anzac, an oaty-coconut-sugary bake, was long thought to have been made dry and hard to survive the long journey to Gallipoli. To its credit, the NZ Army denies any involvement. “Contrary to popular belief there were no Anzac biscuits at Gallipoli. The standard Army biscuit at this time was a rock-hard tooth breaker also called a ship’s biscuit.”
Actually, that does sound remarkably like the Anzac biscuits of my youth, but I know they can be redeemed with generous portions of butter, giving them a chewable twist.
As for the Afghan, its origins are murky, but speculation had it that the look reflects dark-skinned men with turbans, and the texture is like the middle eastern landscape. Soldiers returning from WW1 supposedly came with the recipe from their encounters in those exotic lands.
But exotic they are not. Not a brownie, not a slice, and certainly not a fabulous serving of paneforte, the Afghan is most likely the invention of the Edmunds marketing department or simply the best use of the staples found in a Timaru dairy farmer’s pantry: flour, butter, cocoa powder and cornflakes. (Edmunds added the chocolate icing and walnut later).
Other festive days have foods that rise to the occasion: rich fruit cake for Christmas, warm olie bollen for New Year’s Eve, spicy hot cross buns on Easter Friday. It’s time to find a cake that befits the fighting spirit of our brave soldiers.
If the purpose of Anzac Day is to recall the sacrifice and celebrate our hard-won freedoms then any self-respecting cake should reflect those values. I’d want something representing grit and determination, implying the nuggetty bite of caramelised sugar or a honey-roasted nut. Perhaps there’s the explosive crunch of hokey-pokey, a hint at canons-past and of course something quintessentially New Zealand. I‘d stick with chocolate as the core indulgence but slowly baked with a perfect combination of a gooey centre and crunchy outer, topped by something soldiers could never hope to taste on the field, like fresh cream.
Failing that, how about a feijoa crumble? There’s plenty about.
I’m no baker – can you tell? So someone, anyone, please find a better biscuit to honour our fallen heroes. This Anzac thing is rubbish.
This article was updated and improved thanks to the intervention of reader Susan Eady.
