Growing up in country Western Australia in the 1960s, Anzac biscuits were the soundtrack to every Saturday morning of my childhood. My nan would be at the stove by half past six, her flour-dusted apron tied in that particular way she had, and the smell of golden syrup hitting hot butter would drift out the kitchen window and pull me out of bed faster than any alarm clock ever could.

My nan, bless her, learned the recipe from her own mother, who had baked them through the war years to send to Australian soldiers serving overseas, and the lineage of this biscuit stretches back, by my reckoning, to the original Anzac landings of 1915. There's something about that continuity, that handing-down, that I find almost impossibly moving when I think about it now, all these years later.

I won't bore you with the full history of the Anzac biscuit (although if you scroll all the way down you'll find a delightful 800-word section on it, including a section on why some country WA locals still call them "soldiers' biscuits" which I find absolutely fascinating)…