Dipping Into The Past : Ria du Plessis’ Beskuit

While fancy biscuits and elaborate cakes may make her heart beat faster, it’s the humble rusk that tugs at Sam Woulidge’s Heartstrings

My fondest memories of my Aunty Elaine, or Tannie Laina as I called her, are of cuddling up in her bed on cold Port Elizabeth mornings when I was about six years old. We would drunk rusks and she would share her coffee with me by pouring some into a saucer to allow it to cool. She would also tell me the story of Racheltjie de Beer and how she gave her life to save her little brother by lying in the entrance of a hollowed anthill while he lay protected on the inside one freezing cold Free State night. She would also recite Afrikaans poetry to me. Eugene Marais’ “Mabalel” about the young maiden who was eaten by a crocodile, that was alerted to her presence, by the tinkling of her ankle bracelets. And she would always end with the poem that made me cry the most, AG Visser’s “Amakeia”, a story set in the Sixth Xhosa war that tells of the Xhosa woman who died protecting the white child in her care.

biscuits

I don’t know why I like lying in my aunt’s bed, drinking lukewarm milky coffee, crying at the sad stories she told me. But I felt safe and protected. And perhaps in some way I knew that the stories she told were significant because they made me feel sad; because she wanted to awaken in me a spirit of compassion.

As an adult, I try to steer clear of the tragic stories, because they make me so unbearably sad, but I do like to dunk rusks into my coffee or tea. Doing so makes me enormously happy. I don’t even mind the dregs at the bottom of the cup. I like taking my first bite out of the rusk while it is still dry, to feel it crumbling in my mouth, but the second bite is always the dunked one. Rusks are perfect breakfast fare, not too sweet, not too fatty, not too fussy, just something to still the early-morning hunger pangs. Rusks are for hurried weekday mornings, lazy weekend lie-ins, and holidays slouching around in your pyjamas, drinking pots of tea.

In our family, the most important part of preparation for the annual pilgrimage to the sea was baking the rusks. My mom would spend days baking and drying and drying rusks that would be stored in large plastic tubs. It always seemed as if we would never be able to finish them all, but they never lasted the whole holiday. It was just too enticing to walk past the tub and grab a handful on your way out.

They were also perfect for innocent nocturnal teenage visits, which always involved coffee and some light flirtation. Or those lazy mornings when you were in no hurry to pull on your costume and head off to the beach, when a book and a rusk held more allure. But today, years later, I am baking rusks for Aunty Elaine’s grown-up grandchildren who are coming to stay. I have also printed out a copy of the two poems she taught me for them. In memory of her. And because I think she would have liked that.

Ria du Plessis’ Beskuit

Ria du Plessis was the mother of Andre, a schoolfriend of my older cousins, Heleen and Lizbe. When Andre came to visit them, he would always arrive with boxes of these rusks.

Ria du Plessis’ Beskuit

Make 40 to 45 rusks

Easy

Great value

Preparation: 20 minutes

Baking: 35 minutes, plus drying time

·         Self-Raising flour 1 kg

·         Baking powder 1 t

·         Salt a pinch

·         Brown sugar 200 g

·         All-Bran Flakes 300 g

·         Free-range eggs 3, beaten

·         Buttermilk 2 cups

·         Butter 500 g, melted

1. Preheat the oven to 180⁰C. Sift the flour, baking powder and salt together. Add the eggs, buttermilk and melted butter. Mix well. There’s no need for fancy equipment, and old salad bowl and a clean pair of hands is all you need.
2. Place the mixture onto a large silicone baking sheet on a baking tray, pat into a rectangle and bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until a skewer inserted comes out clean.
3. Allow to cool. When cool, cut into medium-sized rectangles, reduce the heat to 50⁰C and return the rusks to the oven to dry out for about 4 hours. Or a bit longer.

Butter, melted

Hungry for history?

An early recipe for rusks, or beskuit, first appeared in 1761 in a book called De Volmaakte Hollansche Keukenmeid. But long before then, women of the Cape were baking and selling them to the sailors of the Dutch East India Company. These dry biscuits would sustain the sailors on long, frightening sea journeys.