How do you take your scones? It is a debate very much reflective of our times. Polemic vituperation rather than objective analysis. Cream first with a dollop of jam, or a jam smear with a pile of cream?

It’s not just a matter of taste. I’m here to tell you there is a right answer; based on rigorous experimentation, science and considerable weight gain.

My first extended exposure to scones was at college. The groundsman’s wife used to prepare tea for our home cricket matches. Not just the brew, you understand. For those not of this green and pleasant land or blessed with cricket, the innings break in a cricket match can also be “tea” and in that moment the piles of scones accompanied by pots of jam and cream come under the umbrella of “tea” as a repast.

High-performance sport this was not. 

As a bowler, the key to enjoying every game was to win the toss, field first and then snooze off the mid-game excess to the distant snap of leather on willow. Heady days. 

Then there was my neighbour, Amanda, who kept a rumbunctious band of boys fuelled with bready things, mainly malt loaf and scones, all drenched in butter. As a Southerner, I suspect it is from her that I picked up the habit of saying scone (to rhyme with gone), not scone to rhyme with bone. I have no quarrel with either, or either if you prefer. 

More recently I have invested time and no small amount of money in some of the finest eateries in the land to thoroughly test how a scone should be consumed. 

Cheese scones are not really my thing but I do like a sultana and I’m willing to see the human species progress with trials of other combinations. I’m not here to judge, only to inform. 

Taste-wise, unless you are an acrobat, it is the scone itself that will hit your tongue first. The mess created, jam moustache or nostrils full of cream, is about evens. If you are in Claridges use a napkin not your sleeve. A small win here for cream on top because as the scone tumbles and crumbles in the mouth, my preference is to get the cool creaminess first and the sugary strawberry hit second, but it is a matter of fine margins and not the determining factor. 

The key point is in fact at the moment of construction. Your scone should be halved; the top separated from the bottom. If you have channelled Solomon and have split it lengthways I applaud your endeavour but you have made life hard for yourself for little gain. 

The essential thing you must establish now is the relative density of your jam and cream. The more dense item must go first. So if you have a luscious conserve or extra jam, wobbling on the tea spoon, accompanied by a light, whippy cream, it has to be jam first. Otherwise the jam will slide the cream around and you will only make an exhibition of yourself. Given the number of people taking selfies and lifestyle shots in tea rooms these days you’ll end up a gif, and not in a good way.

On the other hand, if you have a pot of golden joy, cream so thick it it takes an effort to dig the spoon in and makes a small sucking pop as it comes out, with an airy strawberry confection to go on top, it has to be cream first. Otherwise you’ll be wearing the jam (and you really should have dressed up for the occasion). 

And if, Lord love us, you are in some corner of paradise where the cream would sink to the bottom of the ocean and the jam would tempt a serpent away from the apple tree then be kind to yourself and order more scones. 

That’s it, heavy first, light second, slather and enjoy. 

My tests were conducted at the following establishments, none of which sponsored me but I would be delighted to be asked to come back…

Betty’s in York, Claridges, The Theatre Royal, Cafe Wolseley and Raffles, naturally.

End