Mr. Kate’s Grandma was Welsh. She had a very strong connection to her heritage, and celebrated it as often as she could. One of the ways she did that was to make Welsh cakes every year at the holidays. Mr. Kate has fond memories of his grandma bringing Welsh cakes fresh from the oven over to their house in December when he was young. I was fortunate enough to meet his Grandma just before her dementia got really bad, but it was past her cooking days. When she passed away we took her recipe box and typed out all the recipes, so the family would have them (she had a reputation in the family as a wonderful cook). In the box was, sort of, her recipe for Welsh cakes. I say sort of, because it is a very terse recipe, but there is enough there, if you are a baker, to understand.
Every year we have made Welsh cakes, since before Bushboy was born. Now it is a family affair, and this Saturday was the day.
We all have our jobs. We all make the dough (different jobs) and then I roll it out. Bushboy cuts out the little cakes. Mr. Kate mans the griddle and cooks them to perfection.
Tradition, especially food tradition, is a nice thing to have and to pass along to the next generation. Do you have any?