Sundays lend themselves to afternoon tea. Of course that usually means a wonderful cup of tea to accompany a plate of something cold and savoury, followed by something sweet. Well I’m having to forego the sweet treat but have, instead, decided to make some cheese scones.
But before we go any further let us address, head on, the elephant in the room. The pronunciation of the word ‘Scone’.
I am not, at this juncture, prepared to get into any type of disagreeable argument with regards to this word, as I am of the firm belief that, in this particular instance the ‘each to his or her own’ philosophy most befits the situation.
However, I will say that, according to my research, those of us on this little plot of land, are more inclined to the pronunciation of scone to rhyme with the word ‘con’, whereas those of our cousins across various waters, are more inclined to pronounce scone to rhyme with the word ‘tone’.
*leaves slight pause for reflection, thus realising that this information neither helps nor hinders a ‘Scone’ argument*
Throw 8oz self raising flour, a pinch of salt and a pinch of mustard powder into a bowl. Rub in 2oz of butter until it resembles soft sand. Add 2oz grated mature cheddar cheese and 5 floz of full fat milk together into the bowl and roll it around until it all forms a ball. Pop said ball onto a floured surface and flatten it into a round, approximately 2cm thick, circle. Cut out 10 – 12 scones and place on a baking tray. brush with a little milk and cook in the oven for around 12 – 15 minutes at gas mark 7.
Of course, I completely forgot that I was slow cooking a ham in the oven on a low heat, so put my scones in and thought nothing more of it. Until 10 minutes later when it dawned on me that I was actually cooking two things in the same oven, at the same time. Thankfully I managed to rescue the situation before the scones decided to give up the rising ghost and turn into cheese biscuits.
I should also probably mention that as the weather is so inclement today, these cheese scones have been prepared, baked and eaten in my ‘at home’ daywear.
Comfort personified.
Being Nigella 