Nick Harman

The thick of it

The unannounced arrival of a big tub of clotted cream in the office, courtesy of Rodda’s, causes consternation. Some staff want to organise a working group to go out and get scones. Others want the working group to go out and get scones so they can eat the cream while they’re gone. It’s worse than heroin for turning decent people into sly crims, this stuff.

The sconners prevail after solemn swearing by the rest of us not to raise a spoon until they come back. And so it is that we all sit down to some scones, cream and jam on a sunny afternoon in Carnaby Street.

It’s lush stuff this, I love the oily yellow crust on top that heralds the thick joy beneath. I’m from a generation that only ever got clotted cream when as kids on holiday in Devon. In my memory I ate it wearing grey shorts sitting next to girls who wanted to be boys. Enid Blyton has a lot to answer for in my opinion.

In fact we used to send tubs home to relatives instead of postcards, everyone did back then. I can’t imagine many arrived safely but we never checked. It was just something you did.

Anyway back to the cream. These days it survives its journey very well indeed, and with some MetroTesco scones (they aren’t sure if they are boys or girls either) goes down a treat. Which it really is.

Of course keeping it for scones is a shame, other options are open. I took the remains home and stirred cream and a shot of brandy into the pan juices from a steak to make a rather good sauce as per Rodda’s recipe. I also added some to the top of a panna cotta with fresh Autumn raspberries from my allotment. Bit excessive that, but very tasty.

Rodda apparently produces 25 tons a day down in Cornwall, which is an awful lot of clotted cream even by Famous Five standards. They can’t make it anywhere else, even if they wanted to as it has Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) status. You can even get it delivered, frozen, to wherever you are in the world. It’s big with Dubai expats for example.

But to me clotted cream is always going to be linked with holidays in the South West, where the sun always shone and nascent transvestites lurked around every corner. Delicious,