I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing.

The first time I had scones, they were round. I was probably 9. My folks carted my brother and I over to the UK for our first European adventure. I saw bears in the Black Forest. We went to some castle for wine tasting. We had Chinese food in France. I think I saw the Eiffel Tower. I don’t remember it very well though fortunately the photos are around somewhere. At home with my folks.

I remember the second time we had scones much better. I was probably 11. We had it in a cafe. They served it with cream, but it was light, more like whipped cream, and jam. I wasn’t really a big fan of butter or dairy growing up, but this was acceptable. I ordered it each time we stopped for tea. Tea and warm scones were quite comforting. We had some at Oxford, right before we walked around, saw a bunch of guys punting down that canal, bought my favourite tee shirt (through my teens – I haven’t really been that attached to my clothes after that), and a souvenir mug which read: Insanity is hereditary. You get it from your children. I thought it was hilarious.

I’ve tried making scones back in Singapore, but never had much success with them. It was always something or the other, sometimes they turned out like stones, other times, they just weren’t worth finishing. I thought I’d try them again, now that I’m equipped, and it was getting all drizzly and rainy here. The first batch was awful. Maybe I forgot the sugar (not likely), or the improvisation of baking soda and half-and-half, but after a couple of bites I had to throw the whole lot out.

I was going to give up. I put it in the backburner, and decided to forget about it. I can buy scones, dammit. I’d probably have to take the bits out of it, because for some reason, people here put stuff in their scones – like raisins, or blueberries. I really prefer mine plain, the way I remember them. That and I really don’t like raisins for the most part. And most dried fruit.

Anyway. The other day, I was out with Dr M at the Half Moon Bay plant Nursery. It was drizzling and foggy there, and we were walking through rows of rose shrubs. This is what I remember the UK to be like, I said. He said, Well, it doesn’t get more UK than this – the rain, and me. But it was the whole thing. Truding through muddy gravel, the drizzle and fog, the accent, the light scent of roses. The only thing missing was the smell of bread at Sainsbury’s and the buttery comfort of scones.

So. That afternoon I bought the bunch of ingredients I was missing, and made a fresh batch of scones the next morning. I’m happy to say they turned out really well. I’ve been having scones with tea for breakfast for a couple of mornings. It’s certainly more appropriate and satisfying than chocolate cream pie for breakfast, at least!

Here’s the recipe for the scones I made. I left out the raisins. The trick is not to over work the dough – rub/cut it in roughly, add wet ingredients, then slap it together. It’s supposed to be crumbly. Not bad for a half-hour job.