Traumatized by Scones

I’ve just been cooking (chocolate banana bread) for tomorrow night’s camping expedition to Owen Springs. As I was following the recipe, some dim, dark and unpleasant memories of Year 7 Home Science (home economics or cooking) surfaced in my mind…

For a tomboy like me with an aversion to frilly dresses, barbie dolls (make that any dolls, actually), high heels and acrylic nails, high school Home Science was pure torture. Run by teachers that were uptight, repressed 1950s housewives whose sole purpose was to make girls’ lives miserable, these classes stick in my mind as being about as much fun as having your eyeballs seared with hot pokers. Being forced to make a well in the scone batter, for instance. Why was it the end of civilisation as we knew it if you didn’t make a well in the scone batter? What was going to happen? The sky would cave in? Pestilence? Plagues? Famines?

I can tell you what happens if you DON’T make a well in the scone batter.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The sky does not cave in. The bubonic plague does not break out in your armpits. Civilisation does not collapse.

In fact, the scones even turn out fine WITHOUT a well. (For my entire life, I have purposely NEVER made a well in scone mix and I’ve never had a failure yet).

Why traumatize a generation of children over a bloody hole in a pile of flour? Why, teachers, why?

And then there’s sifting flour… But don’t start me.

Do not start me…

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