
Chef Thomas
All-Butter Shortbread Fingers
The plainest biscuit in the tin and the hardest one to stop eating, three ingredients and a slow oven turning good butter into something quietly perfect with a cup of tea.
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Created by Chef Thomas
Dark cocoa biscuit fingers sandwiched with proper chocolate buttercream, made the way they should be: at home, with good butter, on a grey afternoon that needs them.
There's a particular sort of afternoon that calls for these. Grey outside, the heating clicking on, a kettle that's been boiled twice already because nobody got round to making the tea. This is the weather for biscuits. Not anything elaborate. A plate of something dark and chocolatey beside a mug of something hot, and the rest of the day can wait.
Bourbon biscuits were invented in Bermondsey over a century ago and have been a fixture of the British biscuit tin ever since. The shop-bought ones are fine. They're better than fine, actually, which is why nobody bothers to make them at home. But the homemade version isn't really the same biscuit. It's a darker, richer, slightly softer thing, with a buttercream that tastes of actual chocolate rather than the memory of it. Worth the hour it takes.
The trick is the cocoa. Use a good one, the darkest you can find, and the biscuits come out the colour of wet earth and taste like they mean it. The buttercream wants the same treatment. There are few better feelings than putting a plate of these on the table and watching someone reach for a second one before they've finished the first.
I wrote it down in the notebook the first time I got them right: bourbon biscuits, Tuesday, raining, two cups of tea. That was years ago and they still come out the same way every time. A recipe is a conversation, not a contract, but this one barely needs adjusting.
Quantity
150g
Quantity
30g
the best you can find
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
100g
softened
Quantity
75g
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
75g
softened
Quantity
150g
sifted
Quantity
20g
sifted
Quantity
1 teaspoon
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| plain flour | 150g |
| dark cocoa powderthe best you can find | 30g |
| bicarbonate of soda | 1/2 teaspoon |
| fine sea salt | pinch |
| unsalted buttersoftened | 100g |
| light brown soft sugar | 75g |
| golden syrup | 2 tablespoons |
| whole milk | 1 tablespoon |
| vanilla extract | 1/2 teaspoon |
| unsalted butter (for filling)softened | 75g |
| icing sugar (for filling)sifted | 150g |
| dark cocoa powder (for filling)sifted | 20g |
| whole milk (for filling) (optional) | 1 teaspoon |
Put the softened butter and brown sugar into a bowl and beat them together until pale and fluffy. A wooden spoon and some patience will do it; an electric whisk takes about two minutes. Add the golden syrup, the milk, and the vanilla, and beat again until it all comes together into something glossy and faintly toffee-scented.
Sift the flour, cocoa, bicarbonate of soda, and salt straight into the bowl. Stir it through with a spoon at first, then bring it together with your hands. It should come into a soft, dark dough that just holds together. If it feels dry and cracked, add another teaspoon of milk. If it feels sticky, leave it alone for a minute. Flatten it into a disc, wrap it, and put it in the fridge for half an hour.
Heat the oven to 170C/150C fan and line two trays with baking parchment. Roll the chilled dough out between two sheets of parchment to about 4mm thick. This is the trick. Rolling it directly on the work surface will have you fighting it. Between parchment, it behaves. Cut into neat rectangles, about 6cm by 3cm. A ruler isn't a bad idea here. The shape is half the pleasure of a bourbon.
Lift the rectangles onto the trays, leaving a little room between them. Now the iconic bit: prick each one with a fork in two neat rows of small holes. It looks fussy. It is fussy. Do it anyway. Bake for twelve to fifteen minutes. They should feel just firm at the edges and still give very slightly in the middle when you press one. They firm up as they cool. Pulling them out a touch early is always the right call.
Slide the parchment off the hot trays and onto a rack. Let the biscuits cool entirely. Warm biscuits and buttercream are a disaster: the filling slumps out the sides and you end up with chocolate puddles instead of sandwiches. Patience here pays.
Beat the softened butter in a bowl until pale and creamy. Sift in the icing sugar and cocoa, then beat again until smooth and glossy. It should hold a soft peak. If it feels stiff, add a teaspoon of milk. Taste it. It wants to be properly chocolatey, not just sweet, so add a little more cocoa if you think it needs it.
Turn half the biscuits upside down on the rack. Spoon a generous teaspoon of buttercream onto each, or pipe it if you want to be tidy. Set another biscuit gently on top and press until the filling just peeks out at the edges. Don't squash them. They're biscuits, not flapjacks. Leave them to set for half an hour, then put the kettle on. We're only making dinner, but this is what comes after.
1 serving (about 41g)
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