“There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray, love, remember”
Hamlet, Act 4, Scene 5
Like no other ingredient, rosemary is full of memories for me.
It reminds me of hot summer evenings, breaking off branches of rosemary to use in the kitchen and crushing the leaves in my hands, rubbing the scent all over my fingers. It reminds me of the smell in the woods after the rain with the fragrance resting heavily on the damp air.
Life is full of memories. Some are so strong that you can reach out and touch them. Others are mere fragments on the outer limits of your consciousness. They feel like the come from a whole other lifetime.
There are various strands that make up who we are, like the strings attached to a bunch of balloons held tightly in a child’s hand. Rosemary always reminds me of one of the strands of my life. I don’t often think about the people or places. They’ve moved on from my life. I’ve passed out of theirs.
I am not, probably, a very good friend. I drift in and out of contact with people. Often I’ll drift so far out of contact that I can’t quite see a way back. There some people though who have come into my life and then I’ve let slip out without really ever acknowledging them and their impact on my own life. I like to think they remember, though, the moments when our lives interacted, when the strands of our lives danced together.
“But all I know of you is my memory
And I all I ask is you, remember me”
Rosemary, Suzanne Vega
All you really need to know is that the original recipe is from Nigel Slater. The rosemary is my addition.
It’s not an overpowering flavour, it just flickers around. There’s richness from the butter and some ground almonds for texture. Served warm, they are soft and yielding. When cooled, they are more like a proper (English) biscuit but no less delicious for that. Nigel Slater recommends rolling the baked cookies in icing/powdered sugar. I don’t think that they really need that myself but I won’t judge you if you do.