Down-time Cranberry Cream Scones

The best scones I can remember eating were at the top of a small hill in Devon. A quaint little tea room just like the ones you imagine to find in the English countryside, had a blackboard set up outside announcing Cream Teas were being served. We had hiked along the stunning rough coastline and with gusts of strong wind pushing us along, cream tea sounded like just the thing we had earned. I don’t know if it was the warmth of the black tea, the sweetness of the homemade strawberry compote or the thick clotted cream, but those are the scones I have searched for ever since.

A real scone should be light but substantial, hearty enough to serve as the perfect vehicle for delivering the best toppings, but not so heavy as to overwhelm the delicate cream and cooked fruit. The crumb moist but porous enough to allow just that touch of jam syrup to soak in. If you are feeling extra decadent a layer of freshly churned butter, salted, can be spread onto one half, melting slightly on the warm surface before you plop on a generous dollop of clotted cream, its texture so rich that when you lift the spoon,  the cream pulls away reluctantly like threads of spun caramel.

That scone and those perfect toppings have been hard to find again.

Several days ago, I had the luxury of leaving the house for a few hours alone. Walking around without a baby carrier or a bag full of diapers seemed almost wicked, like a teenager sneaking out for the night.  There were some errands to run and before I knew it, there were only thirty minutes left till the ferry back home. To do my solo outing right, coffee and a baked good had to be had, preferably sitting down at a proper table instead of scarfing down something out of a paper bag. I ran to the nearest cafe and made my decision quickly. There were mountains of croissants, eclairs, muffins, cupcakes, donuts, pain au chocolat…and beside them the humble raisin scone. I pick the scone and it was brought to me with a packet of Lurpak butter and a single serving pack of strawberry jam. They didn’t bother to heat it up and when sliced open, the scone was dry, crumbly and sad. There is something wrong about splitting open a scone with a plastic knife, attempting to smear cold butter on it and then dishonouring the whole thing by foregoing the cream.

In that moment I did not care. I was alone in a cafe, in my corner booth and somehow it felt like I was getting the best massage in the world. All the muscles in my back loosened, my posture softened and my breathing slowed down. I was alone and it felt good. I looked around and there were couples smiling, some taking selfies, some with their faces glued to their phones; middle-aged women chatting loudly in Mandarin; a business meeting happening over cappuccinos. Waiters were rushing around getting ready for the early dinner crowd, glasses dropped onto the floor, cutlery banging gently against each other on a tray. I heard nothing. I could see it all, but a calm had descended upon me and in my quiet bubble I smiled. The simple calm and joy of being alone.

Before I became a mother, there was so much time alone. The time we took for granted, between dinners and parties and work and exercise, the time that was simply in between. Now, the time “in between” has become few and far apart. I know I will miss these moments of being needed. As the days get easier and he holds on tight with his little hands, I will miss these moments together when he will eventually want to go off on his own. But as I ate my dry crumbly scone with chunky cold butter and sugary jam, I looked out onto the harbour of Hong Kong. The boats going by, some slow, some fast; the waves pitching up like tall grass under a field of skyscrapers, the sun hitting against the mirrored windows of endless towers. And all I wanted to do was to bottle up this feeling for the moments when I will need it most. The overwhelming peace of being alone.

As I rushed for the ferry and got back home, there was only one thing left to do. Bake a batch of real scones and do them justice, because precious down time was not going to be wasted ever again on a mediocre one which dared to call itself, a Scone.

DOWN-TIME CRANBERRY CREAM SCONES  \dawn tajm krænbɛri krim skonz\

Adapted from The Violet Bakery Cookbook

These light-as-air scones are adapted from the original cream scones in The Violet Bakery Cookbook. The replacement of yoghurt for some of the heavy cream gives them a slightly lighter crumb and a combined with the cranberries, a tangier touch. The drop of almond essence gives them a comforting sweetness that I always crave for in cream scones. 

Makes 12-20 scones

Cranberry Cream Scones

1/2 cup dried cranberries
1 tsp plum wine or your favourite alcohol (cognac or whiskey would work well)
2 tbsp boiling water
1/2 tsp almond essence
700g or 2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
2 tbsp baking powder
100g or 1/2 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
200g unsalted butter, chilled
400g heavy cream
160g full fat yoghurt
1 egg, beaten

To Make

Soak the dried cranberries in a small bowl with the alcohol, boiling water and almond essence. Set aside.

Sift the flour and baking powder into a large bowl and stir in the sugar and salt. Cut the cold butter into small cubes and gently rub into the flour mixture with the tip of your fingers until it resembles coarse crumbly sand. You can also use a pastry cutter or a food processor to do this, but I find just going in with your hands faster and more hassle-free since you will have less washing up to do!

Drain the cranberries and stir into the flour mixture. Reserve the “marinating juice” leftover from the cranberries. 

In another bowl stir together the cream, the remaining cranberry juice and yoghurt until smooth. Pour this mixture over the flour mixture and using a wooden spoon or spatula, mix gently until just combined.

Turn the scone mixture onto a lightly floured surface and press together into a block of about 5cm thick. Let the dough rest for 5 minutes.

After resting, fold the dough in half, lifting and turning the dough over itself just once. Press together and let it rest for another 5 minutes. We do not want to over-handle the delicate dough. 

When ready, roll out or simply press the dough into a 2.5cm thick rectangle and use 6cm-round cutters dipped in flour to stamp out even rounds. 

Place the scones onto a baking sheet (or whatever flat surface will fit in your fridge or freezer) and cover with plastic wrap to chill in fridge or freezer for 10-20 minutes. This will help them keep their shape while baking. 

While the scone chill, preheat the oven to 180C or 335F. Before baking, brush the scones with the egg wash and bake for 18-25 minutes until they have puffed up a little and turned a light golden brown.

Remove from oven and transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Serve them split in half with your favourite jam and a good dollop of clotted cream. 

They are best eaten on the day of, but can be reheated once before eating if kept at room temperature.