Food Tales

FOOD TALES

Being the tales of the Weasley food that awes everyone.

Part 1: Molly's Biscuit Tree

What's it going to be, eh?

That's right, oh faithful listeners. We, thy founding members of the WWW, not Wizard Wireless Whatsoever, but founding members of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, yours truly Gred and Forge...err Fred and George Weasley are here to amaze you faithful listeners, frequent customers and perhaps those who do not know a single thing of us about some of our well thought out, and even outrageous stories that amused customers around the world! Perhaps thou hath not know of those tales, but those tales were crafted out of our imagination and perhaps, borne out of the desire of vengeance against some of our foes, again, in an imaginative and humorous manner!

We, thy humble narrators thought that it wouldn't be satisfying for us to show our tricks of the trade or just do the trading inside this shop itself. There are at times boredom rules supreme around here! Not even our siblings, our ickle Ronniekins or the fierce hot-head little sister of ours Ginevra can keep us company in this tight and cozy premise! Thus the idea of humoring people including those little children occurred from that very moment! We want to spread the laughter to everyone! After all, isn't laughter a good medicine and a good cure for the everyday diseases? Why, it heals those who are depressed, sad and even eliminates headaches? Miracle, isn't it?

Yours faithfully have been amusing, joking and even played pranks with countless number of people here, there, as far as Hogwarts and even parts of Europe for fifteen years and on, until now! But in this case, this tale has once saved the life and turned the fortunes of one poor boy! Our mother, though causing pain in our necks, but still loved us has a tree at the backyard of our humble home. A mystery surrounded the very place that was in Ottery St. Catchpole. Though we have four seasons, from spring to winter, the garden behind our home continues to blossom throughout the whole year. The stream behind never freezes in the winter, and this mystery has caught the attention of some curious lurkers and visitors who might imagine how this impossible thing happened? The answer to that lies to this tale we're about to share to thou, oh faithful followers of the new generation of purveyors of mischief!

The secret behind it is none other than our very own dear Mother's biscuit tree! That tree's a magical biscuit tree. It was already there just before our big brother Charlie was born!

Ah...Charlie, Charlie. We missed those good days playing with you.

*

There were times before when everyone, including thy humble narrator was far and away from work including perpetrating jokes back in good old Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. There was no one at home, save for our dear mother. As you, faithful listeners, she lives in a tumble-down multi-floor cottage near Devon. Though we were poor, we managed to learn how to conserve our resources, including handing-down books and clothes that our bigger brothers used before. As for food, our dear mother was described as a very hardworking person. She works everyday that she grew potatoes and cabbages in the garden and nothing else because the garden was so small.

Though we were poor, she was as kind as could be. If anyone came knocking at the Burrow's stout wooden oak door begging for a knut, Mum would shake her head and say, "I'm sorry dear, I haven't even a single knut. But you are welcome to have a few slices of bread or two or three potatoes."

If anyone wanted help, she would run to give it. When our neighbor Mr. Jeremiah Lovegood broke his leg, she went in to sweep and dusts his cottage every day. His cottage is just across the river and even fed a small barn of hens that he built so well that they laid more eggs than usual!

And when our house had the roof blown off by the storm occasionally, poor Mum had to fix the roof herself! She took a ladder, spent a whole day assembling pieces that would form a big roof, and then mending the roof beautifully without much hassle and even breaking her sweat. Did she ever complain about being tired or even frustrated of doing this kind of work? The answer, my fans is a no. She did not complain at all. Instead, she enjoyed doing it.

Most people knew how to reward her for her kindness. They would give her a few biscuits. But then she was poor. She wanted to make biscuits for herself. The meals together with dad when we all were away were just bread, potatoes, cabbage and sometimes with soup for a treat.

And she loved the biscuits so much!

"I really don't know which biscuits I love most," she would say. "The ginger-snaps are marvelous with lovely taste. And the chocolate biscuits that Mr. Lovegood bought simply melt in my mouth. And as for those little biscuits with the jam in the middle, well, I could eat them all day long!"

Now one day Mum had a bit of bad luck. A stray goat from a neighboring Magic farm got into his garden and ate all her winter cabbages! And when she went to his sack of potatoes to help himself to one or two, she found that a gnome must have told his family about them, for nearly all had disappeared through a hole at one end of the sack.

Mum could have cried! All her winter greens gone - and most of her potatoes! What was she to live on now?

She went indoors. She had been to help Dixie Rumford to dig her garden that day, and she had given Mum six pat-a-cake biscuits as a reward. She had meant to keep them for Sundays; and shared one each Sunday with Dad for six weeks at teatime. But today she was so hungry that she felt she could eat them all!

Now just outside at that very moment was a little beggar-child. Her father was a squib and a tramp that was walking through our humble village. She was ragged and cold, and when she saw the smoke rising from The Burrow's chimney, she thought it would be very nice just to peep inside the door and look at the fire.

So, as Mum was about to take a bite from the first biscuit, she saw the door slowly opens, and the untidy curly head of the little beggar-child come peeping around the corner!

Mum stared in surprise. The child smiled and came right in.

"I'm cold," she said. "I saw the smoke coming from your chimney and I wanted to look at a nice, warm fire."

"Come and sit down by it," said Mum at once. "It's only made of sticks from the woods, but it's cheerful and warm!"

So the little ragged girl sat down and warmed her hands. She looked at the bag that Mum was holding and asked her what was inside it.

"Biscuits," said Mum.

"Oooh!" said the beggar-child, but she didn't ask for one. Her eyes grew rounder, and she looked small and hungry. Mum felt that she simply must give her a biscuit. So she handed her one.

"Thank you!" said the girl, and crunched it up as quickly as a dog eats a bone! Then she looked hungrily at the bag again.

Mum knew that she shouldn't give her any more because she wouldn't have any for the next five Sundays. But she found her hand going inside the bag, and there it was, holding out another biscuit again!

Well, the girl ate five of those six biscuit, and Mum was just handing her the very last one, where there came a shout from the gate, "Hi, Jinxy, hi! Where are you? Come along at once!"

The beggar-child jumped up. Her name was Jinxy, and it was her father who was calling her. She gave Mum a quick hug and flew out into the garden. Her father was standing at the gate, waiting.

"The red-head lady has been so kind to me, Father!" cried the little girl. "Give her a reward. Please do!"

She bit her last biscuit and some crumbs fell to the ground beside the gate. The tramp trod them into the earth with his foot and muttered a few strange words. He looked at Mum out of bright blue eyes.

"Sometimes a bit of kindness grows and grows and brings us a reward we don't expect!" he exclaimed. "And sometimes it doesn't! But today there is magic in the wind, so maybe you'll be lucky someday!"

He nodded to Jinxy and together with her they went dancing up the lane together, their rags blowing like dead leaves in the wind. Mum shut the gate and went back to the warm kitchen. She was hungry - and all her biscuits, in which she intends to share with Dad were gone. Life was cruel on that day.

When we came back home for Christmas, she never mentioned anything about this. She forgot all about the tramp and the beggar-child that spring. She never saw them again, and she worked hard everyday that she really didn't have time to think of anything except food, rest, work and the concern for all of her kids.

But one day, she noticed a strong little shoot growing by the gate-post. She bent down to look at it. It was not like any seedling she had seen before. Perhaps it was a weed. Mum thought she would pull it up. Then she thought she wouldn't. So she left it.

And to her enormous surprise, it grew and grew very fast indeed, until in three weeks time it was as high as the top of the gate! It sprouted into leaves. It grew higher still! It grew into a smaller tree, and Mum had to walk under it when he went out of the gate. It was really most extraordinary!

She talked to her friends about it. They were used to magic, of course, but no one believed or had ever seen a tree grow quite so quickly.

"It will flower soon and then we shall know what it is," said her friends. And next week, sure enough, it did flower. It had funny flowers - bright red with yellow middles.

The blossoms didn't last long. The red petals fell off, and the flat yellow middles grew larger. Everyone was most puzzled - until at last good old Mr. Jeremiah Lovegood gave a shout and slapped Molly suddenly on the shoulder.

"It's a biscuit tree! That's what it is! A biscuit tree! Goodness me, one hasn't grown in this land for about five hundred years! A biscuit tree, a biscuit tree!" he exclaimed.

Well, Mr. Lovegood was right. It was a biscuit tree, and no mistake! The biscuits grew till they were ripe, and a sort of sugary powder came over them. They were ready for picking.

And how Mum enjoyed picking biscuits off her biscuit tree! You would love that too, oh thou listeners and children alike. She got some big and little tins from her grocer, lined them with paper, and then picked the biscuits. She laid each one neatly in a tin; till the tin was full and she could put the lid on. Then she took up another tin and filled that. She did enjoy herself.

She gave a tin of biscuits to everyone in the village. This was just like kind Molly Weasley, of course. They were pat-a-cake biscuits, and for a long time, no one knew why the tree was a biscuit tree, or why it had grown at all. And then Dixie Rumford suddenly remembered that she had given Mum some pat-a-cake biscuits some months back.

"What did you do with them?" she asked Mum. "Did you eat them?

"No," said Mum. "I gave them all to a beggar child."

"Did she drop any crumbs near you gate, where the biscuit tree is growing?" asked Rumford.

"Yes - she did - and I remember now, her father stamped them into the ground, and said sometimes kindness grew its own reward - and he said that there was magic beyond our capabilities in the wind that day!" cried Mum.

"Ah - now we know everything!" said Rumford. "It was your own bit of kindness that grew! From that biscuit crumbs comes your wonderful tree, Molly. Oh, how marvelous! I do hope it goes on flowering year after year."

*

Well, it does, of course, until now so Mum has plenty of biscuits to eat, sell or give away. Even though we had been through war, survived it and emerged victorious after You-Know-Who's defeat, the tree still remains standing tall in our wonderful home back at the Burrow. It seems that Mum has a good faith on the tree making through during the war. She was afraid that she might see neither the tree nor all of us during those dark times. Well, with the war over, she's back into her daily joyous mood!

As of today, the biscuit tree still remains in the garden. Just take a Knight Bus - well let's hope that Mr. Absent-minded Stan Shunpike is still there - to Ottery St. Catchpole. Look for a very weird looking four-story house. Make no mistake though, you will find the humble home of thy narrator. But be sure you go by the gate during the summer! Only summer - and see the biscuits growing on the tree. And by the way, Mum will give you a pocketful of those yummy yum-yum biscuits if you wish her good morning or good afternoon or even good evening! Let's just hope that she doesn't go bonkers on you little wankers for pestering her all the time!

END OF PART 1