Hedgehog Slice

Every school fete in Australia from the 1970s through the 1990s had three guaranteed items on the cake stall: lamingtons, ANZAC biscuits, and Hedgehog Slice. That dark brown, bumpy slice with chocolate icing on top and a mysteriously crunchy-chewy texture was always one of the first things to sell out. My aunt, who ran our school's cake stall for fifteen years, would make six trays of Hedgehog Slice every fete. "It's cheap to make, doesn't need the oven in summer, and kids love it," she'd say, wrapping slice after slice in cling film for fifty cents each.

The name "Hedgehog Slice" comes from its appearance - the crushed biscuit pieces mixed with coconut create a rough, bumpy surface that supposedly resembles a hedgehog's spines. Some older recipes call it "Hedgehog Cake" or "Tiffin" (the British version), but in Australia, it's always been Hedgehog Slice, made in a lamington tin and cut into squares. It appeared in Australian community cookbooks from the 1960s onward, a product of post-war baking when no-bake recipes were popular for their simplicity and economy.

Aunt Carol's recipe was beautifully simple: crushed plain biscuits (never fancy ones - just cheap Milk Arrowroot or Marie biscuits), cocoa powder, desiccated coconut, melted butter, and golden syrup to bind it all together. "The secret," she'd tell me while I helped in her kitchen, "is to leave some larger biscuit pieces for texture. Don't crush them to powder - you want chunks and crumbs mixed together, that's what makes it interesting to eat."

The mixture would be pressed firmly into a lined lamington tin, chilled until set, then topped with a simple chocolate icing made from icing sugar, cocoa, butter, and hot water. Once the icing set, the whole thing could be cut into neat squares. No baking, no complicated techniques, no special equipment - just crushing, mixing, pressing, icing, and chilling. "This is cooking that anyone can do," Aunt Carol would say. "That's why it's perfect for fundraisers - every parent can make this, and every slice sells."

The texture is what makes Hedgehog Slice special - it's not soft and cakey, nor hard and crunchy, but somewhere wonderfully in between. The crushed biscuits provide structure and bite, the coconut adds chewiness and slight sweetness, the cocoa gives deep chocolate flavor, and the butter and golden syrup bind it all into something dense, rich, and intensely satisfying. The chocolate icing on top adds a smooth sweetness to contrast the rough texture beneath.

Hedgehog Slice represents a particular era of Australian home baking - practical, frugal, no-fuss, and community-minded. It was made for school fetes, CWA stalls, church fundraisers, and handed around at afternoon tea. In summer, when turning on the oven was unbearable, Hedgehog Slice was there. When funds were tight but you still wanted to contribute to the bake sale, Hedgehog Slice came through. It wasn't fancy, but it was reliable, affordable, and loved.

I make Aunt Carol's Hedgehog Slice now when my kids' school has fundraisers. It sells out just as fast as it did thirty years ago. Some recipes are timeless not because they're sophisticated, but because they're honest, simple, and delicious. Hedgehog Slice is all three.