The secret to making sumptuous scones

I love scones. I would go so far as to say they are my favourite morsel of all in the traditional afternoon tea spread. Yes the finger sandwiches are nice, and the mini tarts, eclairs and macarons often an impressive display of the pâtisser’s skill and finesse. But if the afternoon tea doesn’t have a scone, in my book it is not an afternoon tea at all.

The appeal of the scone is partly in its simplicity. I can find the opera cake with multiple different types of ganache and the various mini tartlets that feature in hotel afternoon teas sometimes all a bit much. But a scone consists only of essentials and, furthermore, can be tailored: simply eaten with a little scraping of butter if in an abstemious mood, or topped with your chosen quantity of clotted cream and jam the rest of the time.

It is particularly pleasing to see scones experiencing growing popularity, even triumphing over gluttonous American-style cupcakes. The latter have been everywhere you look for the past few years – driven by Millennial-favoured brands like Lola’s Cupcakes. They are inevitably overloaded with buttercream and various unnecessary accoutrements designed for Instagram-friendly photos. But a scone with clotted cream and jam has a beauty all of its own.

People like to have a little giggle over how best to pronounce the word. There is even a rhyme: 'I asked the maid in dulcet tone / To order me a buttered scone; / The silly girl has been and gone / And ordered me a buttered scone'. In the North, as well as in Ireland and the US, they tend to rhyme with tone. Down south, rhyming with gone is considered more correct. And certainly you will never find a Sloane worth the name who uses the former.

There are multiple British manifestations: tattie scones, soda scones, girdle scones and drop scones. Internationally there is everything from the Hungarian pogácsa to the Australian puftaloon. But it is the traditional English sweet scone that is our concern here.

The clotted cream is of course integral. It should have a fat content of 55 per cent, and a proper crust on the top. As Mrs Beeton advised in her Book of Household Management, proper clotted cream is thick enough to stand a spoon up in. Debate rages over whether the jam or the clotted cream should come first when topping: Nicholas Rodda tells me that “as a Cornishman, I have to say it’s got to be the jam first”. Devonians meanwhile tend to recommend the reverse. And of course rivalry rages over whether Cornish or Devonshire clotted cream is best: The Ritz and Claridge’s use the former; The Lanesborough serves up the latter. You can make it at home. Or consider opting for the excellent Rodda’s (Cornish) clotted cream which is the easiest brand to find.

No such national debate exists over the ideal jam though there are certainly choices. At this year’s Buckingham Palace garden parties, guests were served on top of the cream a blackcurrant preserve – regal purple in colour. Apricot jam can be nice and gives a certain pastel-coloured palette to your spread. But it is hard to beat strawberry for flavour and sheer nostalgic appeal. Tiptree’s ‘Little Scarlet’ Strawberry Conserve is a winning choice.

Recipe

The below recipe is taken from The Platinum Jubilee Cookbook (Ameer Kotecha; Jon Croft Editions in association with Bloomsbury). The book, which has a foreword from TRH The Prince of Wales and The Duchess of Cornwall, features recipes from 70 British diplomatic missions around the world alongside essays on culinary diplomacy and profiles of great British food and drink products. This recipe is contributed by Tony Franklin, the head chef at Wilton Park – a country house in the Sussex countryside used by the Foreign Office for international mediation and strategic dialogue. Helpful, then, in sweetening the mood during sometimes difficult negotiations and discussions.

Makes 10

350g self-raising flour, plus extra for rolling

a generous pinch of salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

85g unsalted butter, plus extra for greasing

3 tablespoons caster sugar

175ml whole milk

85g sultanas (optional)

1 egg, beaten, to glaze

To serve

Devonshire or Cornish clotted cream

English strawberry jam

1. Preheat the oven to 220°C/200°C fan and put a lightly greased baking tray inside to heat up at the same time.
2. Tip the self-raising flour into a large bowl with the salt and baking powder, and mix to combine. Add the butter, and rub it in with your fingertips until the mixture resembles fine crumbs (you can do this in a food processor, but take care not to over-process the mixture). Stir in the caster sugar.
3. Make a well in the centre of the dry mixture, then add the milk and combine it quickly with a fork until you have a sticky dough.

Lightly flour your work surface and tip out the dough. Sprinkle some more flour over the dough and, using floured hands, knead the dough very lightly. Work in the sultanas, if you like – to make fruit scones.

Roll out the dough to a rough rectangle about 3cm thick. Dust a 5cm round pastry cutter with a little flour and cut out as many circles as you can, re-rolling the trimmings as necessary until you have used up all the dough and have 10 scones.

Brush the top of each scone with a little beaten egg, trying not to let it drip down the sides (which can stop the scones rising evenly). Then, place the scones on the hot baking tray in the oven. Bake them for 12–14 minutes, until they are risen and a pale, golden brown colour. Remove the scones from the oven and transfer them to a wire rack to cool.

Eat the scones either just warm or fully cool, but as soon as possible. Split in half and serve with lashings of clotted cream and strawberry jam.