Scones for the SconeLady

 

Since The Digey Food Rooms closed themselves, I have been in something of a slump about scones. Just about every shop in Cornwall serves them, of course, for to be in Cornwall without them is to miss the Point. But so far nothing has come even close to Alex and Josh at The Digey. I can scarcely talk about it.

Then my phone pinged, announcing an email. "Shall we have scones at Eric's house?" This was from the lovely and gracious Pennie, who has been a true friend from afar and who loves a Cream Tea as much as the SconeLady. 

"Oh yes, let's!" And it was set for 2:00 on Tuesday, in the conservatory.

Conservatories are a wonderful British invention. They are sort of like what we might call a 'sunroom' back home, only the British do it prettier. A British conservatory is (or looks like it is) an addition to the house, wherever it fits in best and the contractor can fashion. The conservatory is typically windows top to bottom, left to right and all the way around. With French doors. And plants! A good conservatory will have plants and flowers placed about it in a delicately arranged way. Eric's conservatory is lovely, and he has good memories in there of the years when his wife was still here making scones for him. 

Pennie provided the scones today and I wanted to contribute something to this special Cream Tea. Strawberries came to mind, so I stopped by the local and picked out some grand ones (we eat lots of strawberries in California, but may I say? they are NOTHING LIKE BRITISH STRAWBERRIES. British strawberries are so sweet and delicate, you almost don't want to cut into one). 

Pennie's scones were served with jam and cream, of course (Americans usually use whipped cream, but Cornwallians prefer clotted). Notice the jam was put on first, then the cream? That is a Cornwall trait, opposite to what is done in Devon, where they start with the cream and add the jam. I do not know why one county does it one way, and the other doesn't. I don't think they know why either. 

This clotted cream tasted better than any other that I have tasted. I ate the whole thing.

We listened as we ate, to some of Eric's stories about when he was a boat pilot in the waters off Penzance. He has written books that tell about these adventures (including the one about him taking Prince Charles for a ride), and very interesting they are, too. His very own father was a ship's captain during the War, and - because he rescued over a hundred people from the sea, the Queen gave him an MBE! (Member of the British Empire). Neither you nor I, no matter how many people we rescue from any sea, will ever become a Member of the British Empire. But Eric's father did, with Queen Elizabeth smiling kindly at him and handing him whatever it is she hands to people who become MBEs. 

The only sad part about that story was that Eric was sick on the day of the award, and missed the whole thing.

"Was St Ives ever in danger during WW2?" I asked, and he told us that the Germans had actually dropped bombs here. The building where the Tate Museum now is used to be the Gas works. One day Eric was playing in the surf when he and his mother heard two loud bombers flying in low, coming their direction from the sea. As the German pilot approached, Eric could see his face in the cockpit, grinning and laughing as if he was looking forward to really giving it to those Britishers down there. The bomb dropped, and then the gas works went up in flames with terrific noise and heat. Thankfully Eric and his mother were not injured, but he will never forget the look on that pilot's face.

The cream tea was over, and it became time for me to go back out under the blue Cornish skies. There can hardly be anything as nice as that - having a cream tea with lovely friends in a conservatory while listening to War bombing adventures from someone as nice as Eric. 

And to think, he came that close to being bombed while just being a kid, wading with his mum out under the blue Cornish skies.

See you along the Way!

the SconeLady