Drop Scones

Baking drop scones was always a spectator sport in my house. As soon as the smell started wafting out of the kitchen, my mum would find herself accompanied by her two daughters, perched on kitchen stools and close enough to receive a light dusting of flour.

She'd pour the batter into the piping-hot frying pan, and we'd watch, transfixed, as the bubbles rose and she flipped them over till they were golden brown. They'd then be tossed into a bowl lined with a dish towel, and another towel was thrown over to keep them warm.

While Mum was distracted with her griddle work, my sister and I would stealthily sneak our hands between the towels and snatch the first drop scones. Buttering them (an essential part of the process) was more difficult to do under the radar.

I've often thought of the drop scone ritual over the years, but it's only now that I've asked for the recipe. Perhaps I'd filed drop scones in the childhood drawer in my brain. Now I think it's only fair to try it out myself and create more memories for my own children.