Woodland Shortbread: Two Recipes for Foraged Fir Biscuits

Simply Bright!

gather

“For the first time since he had entered Narnia he saw the dark green of a fir tree.”

Since childhood, I’ve had a powerful affection for conifers. Growing up in Saskatchewan, these motherly trees provided deep dark refuge from the summer heat. We would travel five hours to spend two weeks among the Jack Pine, Balsam Fir & White Spruce that surrounded the northern campsites. They were magic. They could make June smell like Christmas and in an attempt to capture some of that magic, I would bring pocketfuls of needles back home with me where they’d inevitably be forgotten about until my mother did laundry. Turns out a dried pine needle can really embed itself under a mother’s fingernail. Yikes. Again in December, a fragrant conifer provided refuge once more—this time from the dark, lighting up the corner of our living room with 70’s pinks, blues and oranges. But…

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