When it’s summer, or spring enough that the rhubarb has begun to poke through, there should be rhubarb scones on weekend mornings, but perhaps more importantly, on Monday mornings. When the sun is out at six and the birds start their noisy rave an hour earlier, my favourite thing to do (second to sleep, of course) is go downstairs, open the kitchen windows (the storms are off!) put on the coffee and turn on the oven, and bake some scones. It’s the perfect blank canvas, really – a carbohydrate pedestal on which to present whatever happens to be in season. Tart things are the best, I think – they provide a good contrast to the sweet dough. It’s especially nice when those tart things are free.
If you’re a fan – if you, like me, believe rhubarb deserves more credit than its free-for-all back alley image, if you call on your friends with epic rhubarb plants and ask to pluck a few stalks at every opportunity, then take it home and look for any opportunity to eat it – stewed, cocktailed, wrapped in pastry or turned into pale pink vinaigrette – you’ll be happy to know that you can swap chopped rhubarb – especially the thin stalks that produce smaller bits – for the blueberries and other fruit in muffins and scones. It’s true.
This has become my fall-back-on scone, my reason for buying whipping cream on the regular, and a means of using it up when you’ve suddenly slipped by the best-before date. There’s no butter, so it requires just stirring – and it’s not a lesser scone for it.