Scones

If I were to be for ever denied, as retribution for some imaginary transgression, my single favourite thing to eat, it would be the scone. Never mind chocolate cake, crème pâtissière, a cream cheese Danish (I’m giving myself away here), let alone a grey-legged partridge or a caramelized scallop, the removal of the humble scone from my diet would be a dreadful punishment. I’m not sure why this should be; the scone is, in baking terms, one of the lower invertebrates – hardly a sophisticated confection (think of gâteau opéra) – but this may be the key to its appeal. Good bread has the same sort of admirable simplicity, which can take only very limited embellishment.