Scones are mysterious creatures. Because they don’t have the decoration or icing often associated with other baked treats, their generally plain appearance can hide the truth of what lies within.
I don’t know how many times I’ve approached a scone anticipating its probable taste and texture, sometimes not expecting it to be up to much, only to find that it takes me by surprise and often exceeds expectations.
One such scone I remember well was a treacle affair I had in the quiet environs of Whithorn.
Whithorn is a small town in the south-west of Scotland. It’s a former royal burgh and the location of the first recorded Christian church in Scotland (founded by St Ninian around the year 397). Among its modern day charms is the Pilgrim Tearoom, part of the Whithorn Story Visitor Centre. Since I’ll be in that neck of the woods again soon I’m wondering if I might try and relive the excellent experience I had on a previous visit there.
Gazing upon the scone again now it strikes me as a pretty attractive looking item, but at the time my hopes were far from high. I think I was imagining it might be a bit dried out and tasteless. In fact, it was soft, moist and deliciously treacly, and I would be very glad to have another one just like it.