Aug 28, 2001
Yum
So on Sunday night we were on the way home from Lucky Break (better-than-average BritFlick starring James Nesbitt in a George Clooney-esque wig) and we passed a late-night deli, so we thought we’d stop in and buy yummy things for breakfast the next day.
We picked up some croissants and a thick wedge of baked cheesecake, and pointed at some fruit scones, and then wandered home to curl up and nod off.
In the morning, we ravenously unpacked the deli goodies stashed in the fridge hurriedly the night before.
Two croissants: check.
One wedge of artery-hardening cheesecake: check.
Two fruit scones: nowhere to be seen. Hmm.
So on went the pinny, up rolled the sleeves and out came the ingredients. I made scones, for the first time in ages, and we ate them hot and soggy with melting butter fresh from the oven.
When I worked up in Scotland (where my sister works now) I used to have to make dozens of scones every day – plain, fruit and cheese varieties – for lunch and snacks for the guests. It got to the point that I could make them blindfold, in about four minutes with no recipe, because I did it every single day.
One morning I went down to the kitchen early, a bit sleepy after a night at the ceilidh, and started baking bread and scones as usual. To my horror, I discovered a large margarine tub of semi-liquified yellow gunk sitting next to the stove, melting slowly in the bright sunshine pouring through the window.
“Oh bollocks!” I thought, “someone’s been for a midnight snack here and has forgotten to put away the margarine and now it’s gone all runny. The fools!”
Before anyone else got in, I quickly rubbed the yellow goop into some flour, added some cheese and mustard and cayenne pepper, rolled the dough out and whacked the formed scones into the oven to bake for twelve minutes. Phew. No-one needs to know.
Just as I was preparing to make another batch of fruit scones, one of my co-workers wandered into the kitchen blearily looking for coffee. He spied the empty margarine tub next to the stove and ran his finger around the inside, licking the remnants greedily from his hands.
“Eeeeeeeeuuuw!” I exclaimed, “that’s disgusting!”
He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?” he asked, “it’s only last-night’s custard”
Ah. Custard. Not margarine, then.
Two things suddenly became crystal clear to me:
- The night before, dessert had been apple crumble and custard, and some well-meaning soul had put the leftover custard into an empty margarine tub without labelling it, leaving it on the counter-top to cool down before putting it in the fridge, as good health and safety practices dictate.
- I’d just made cheese and custard scones.
At lunch that day, I played a game with the guests – “guess the mystery ingredient”. None of them guessed correctly, although a few commented on their strangely appealing sweet-spicy flavour and slightly sticky texture.
Let this be a lesson to you: always label your leftovers. And most importantly, if you fuck up, never let on.
Meg’s Basic Scone Recipe
- 8oz self-raising flour
- 2oz butter
- pinch of salt
- 2-4 tbsp milk (fine if slightly sour)
- sultanas/cheese and mustard
– Rub butter and flour and salt together between fingertips until the mixture resembles fine crumbs (chuck in sultanas or cheese/mustard or custard (eek!) if desired at this point).
– Add milk a splosh at a time and fold in using your hands until the mixture holds together and becomes like dough – better to be slightly on the sticky side than too dry.
– Knead lightly on a floured board, and then roll out to 1″-1.5″ thick (use rolling pin or if you don’t have one, use a wine bottle or can of soup or beans covered in clingfilm or plastic bag).
– Cut into squares a couple of inches square (frilly-edges are for girls), stick on a baking tray and whack in the oven for 10-15 minutes, at a medium-high heat, until lightly browned on top and risen slightly.
– Eat hot from the oven, slathered in butter and/or jam and/or vegemite and/or honey and accompanied by a cup of tea.
