Heidi Hopscotch was a simple critter who prioritized a peaceful family above everything else. She always looked forward to her calls with her oldest daughter, Stella Hopscotch Rabbit.
Stella had recently gone off to university to study, with a part time job at the Grand Department Store designing and making dresses.
“Hi, mother!” Stella greeted.
“Hello, dear. How are you?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine, mother. Don’t worry.”
“How is everything?”
“Oh, all is well, just a bit different that’s all. Everything here is so posh and chic. It makes me miss your hot biscuits. Can you believe no one here knows how to make biscuits? I bet they’ve never even heard of hand rolling!”
Heidi was shocked to hear that. Biscuits were a staple of her family’s diet, and the dough was always rolled by hand. A simple paw was all it took to make a warm meal in the country.
“No!” Heidi exclaimed in disbelief.
“Yes, but don’t worry, I have the recipe all memorized: A pot of flour plus a pot of water. Boil hotter. Pat, pat, pat, rat a tat tat. Paw goes over, dough goes lower. No rollers, no whisks. Voilà: biscuits!” Stella sang happily.
“Well, it’s good that you remember the old catchy song,” Heidi commented, still in disbelief about the lack of biscuit knowledge in town.
“Don’t worry, mother. I know that tradition means a lot to you. I’ll pass it down,” Stella assured.
After the brief but sweet phone call, Heidi immediately called Bell down.
“Bell!”
“Coming, mother,” Bell said as she gracefully hopped down the steps like a natural rabbit.
“We’re making biscuits today. You have to promise Mummy that you’ll always remember this recipe passed down for generations.”
“I will, mother. I promise.”
Heidi led Bell into her simple Country Kitchen’s sink countertop. She got out the flour pot and added sink water. Then, she sang, “A pot of flour plus a pot of water. Boil hotter.”
Bell observed silently as her mother turned the mixture of flour and water into a lumpy ball of dough. The pot of flour and water was left to boil for a while. Then, Heidi patted the thing down with her bare paws on the countertop. The dough easily went flat. She sang to Bell, “Pat, pat, pat, rat a tat tat. Paw goes over, dough goes lower. No rollers, no whisk. Voila: biscuits!” Bell was unimpressed by the task Heidi made look so easy. “It’s harder than it looks,” Heidi said while reading Bell’s mind. Bell’s turn came and she failed miserably.
“It won’t go down,” Bell said rather disappointedly.
“You’re not supposed to exert force like that. You look like you’re punching the dough. You’re shaping and kneading the dough,” Heidi explained as her paws patted yet another little flat biscuit down into a perfect shape. Meanwhile, Bell’s lump of dough still remained in a massive ball. The rare few times that bits of her dough were shaped into biscuits, the shape had cracks and paw imprints everywhere.
“I don’t understand,” Bell sighed.
“You’ll get it, don’t worry. I said the same thing when I was learning, and so did Stella,” Heidi recalled.
Heidi stayed behind Bell all afternoon, guiding her hands the best she could. Honey suddenly popped in.
“Mummy, my turn!” she yelled.
Heidi lifted her little daughter up as Honey tried the best she could to shape the dough. She won’t be able to do it. She’s too small. That’s what Bell thought, only to be proven wrong immediately.
Honey giggled as she had a nice pile of perfectly shaped biscuits next to her. “Bell, you should take some lessons from your baby sister. She isn’t strong, but she does it easily. She’s gentle when guiding the dough,” Heidi told Bell.
What does guiding the dough even mean?! Bell thought. She heaved a huge sigh as she stood there observing Honey giggling while having so much fun making biscuits. She tried once more but failed again. Honey laughed explosively as she watched Bell’s facial expressions struggle.
“You funny,” she said.
Just then, Karen walked in and commented, “Ooh, you’re hand rolling biscuits. How fun! David and I used to live in the country suburbs of Sylvanian Village. Our mother may have married our city style dad, but her cooking was always country themed. I can help out.”
Karen demonstrated her mother’s technique. It was different that instead of patting out each biscuit one by one, Karen had set up a system of rolled smooth dough balls first. Then, with simple plumped paw thumps she could have tens of biscuits in a matter of minutes with her system. The final biscuit imprints at the very top were done last, unlike Heidi’s method that made each biscuit completely before starting the next one at all.
“Oh my, you’re great at this,” Heidi encouraged.
The three of them, Heidi, Honey, and Karen, hummed with joy as biscuits were rolled, pulled out of the oven, taste tested, and then stored in the green biscuit basket. Bell struggled with her ball of dough that had been patted and rolled back so many times.
How is it so simple for everyone?! Bell wondered, until it hit her. Honey, Karen, and her mother treated it like a game. They saw it as a celebration of their way of life. The peacefulness of it. How people could bond over a pot of flour. Bell, on the other hand, saw it as some special responsibility of hers as a daughter of a country wife. She cooled herself down, and told herself not to panic.
Before long, Bell had a plate of 3 perfectly shaped biscuits.
“So little,” Honey giggled about as she saw Bell’s tiny pile. Bell didn’t take it seriously. She shrugged off the comment, kissed her baby sister’s forehead, and continued.
“Well, I think we have enough biscuits for the month already,” Heidi announced. “Thank you for all your help, girls. Why don’t you guys go wash up and play?” she added.
Bell, completely calm, replied, “Mother, I think I’m getting the hang of it. Just a little while longer?” Heidi agreed and left to set the dinner table.
Bell rolled in complete tranquility. With each move of her paw, she wasn’t forcing the dough to listen. She was softly smoothening it out to a perfect biscuit shape with technique and not force. She was at last guiding the dough. By the time Honey had finished bathing and was downstairs playing, Bell had a pile of biscuits higher than Honey had had.
“That... a lot of biscuits,” Honey said aloud.
Bell heard and smiled to herself as she cleaned up.
Happily thinking: One day, I’ll tell my daughters to “guide the dough”, too.
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