Effie's Oatcakes Are Great for Tea, and For Shoving In Your Face

If your family was anything like my family growing up, you had a specific, notorious set of household snacks that inspired the most lizardly of lizard brain instincts, leading you to devour, fight, and protect. To provide a case study: My family has a long and sordid history with pimento cheese. Somehow it has the power to put each of us in a fugue state; all we can do is unhinge our jaws to shove as much of it down as fast as possible. Snacks of this caliber don’t come around often—which is what brings me to Effie’s Oatcakes.

During the holidays, I was back in Colorado, grocery shopping with my mom. Of course, part of this ritual involves a) buying pimento cheese, and b) finding some poor, unsuspecting chip or cracker to use as a pimento cheese delivery system, which is how we came upon an endcap display of neatly-stacked orange-and-yellow boxes.

“Oatcakes,” I hissed, like a lizard. “Sounds just appealingly bland enough.”

Returning home, we were eager to get into the pimento cheese, and by association, the oatcakes. The box contained a single sleeve of unassuming little squares; they were the color of chinos, with the occasional oat fleck here and there. A befitting neutral backdrop for the main attraction. Or so we thought.

It took one bite to realize how foolish we were.

These things are oaty, yes, but they teeter between sweet and salty in a way that makes oatiness somehow exciting and complex. They are buttery like shortbread, but not overly rich. They have a tight, crumbly texture reminiscent of those alphabet graham crackers you’d get in elementary school, but better.

We quickly realized that this was a different sort of grocery treasure. Not something to be unceremoniously devoured, but something to be savored and consumed in the company of a dignified charcuterie board. Oatcakes, we soon found out, make a perfect slightly-sweet foil to creamy cheeses and salty meats. And for people with some semblance of self control, they are delicious when slowly savored with pimento cheese. Oatcakes are for humans, not for lizards!

Naturally, I was curious about the origins of the oatcake, so I searched far and wide to places like the ‘About Us’ tab on their website. Apparently, Effie’s Oatcakes hail from a small farm village on an island in Nova Scotia, where Effie herself inherited the recipe from generations of mothers before her. To me, this sounds more like the origin story for a powerful sea witch and not an oatcake, but whatever you say, Effie. Also they are primarily meant to be eaten alongside tea, which I’m sure is great, but is far too dignified for me. Thankfully, the Effie’s website has numerous recipe suggestions, one of which is for a chocolate salami; much more my speed.

Springing on an eight dollar sleeve of biscuits seems pretty extravagant right now. And my original intention in writing this piece—that you take these oatcakes to a dinner party in lieu of wine—no longer holds. But oatcakes have not been rendered entirely obsolete. Consider sending them to someone else who shares your same taste in snack and might appreciate the surprise gesture. And get some for yourself, too. Even in isolation, lizards gotta eat.

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Effie's Oatcakes (Pack of 6)

$43

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