Dad’s Weetabix and clotted cream
Ingredients Weetabix Clotted cream Caster sugar Milk
Take a Weetabix, add a layer of clotted cream (as thick as you dare), then sprinkle liberally with caster sugar. Add a little bit of milk around the Weetabix to soften, and enjoy.
It sounds disgusting but it is rather good. The Weetabix acts a bit like a scone, setting off the cream and it is all about the cream. I hasten to add that this was a rare treat, reserved for high days and holidays.
Dad didn’t have a sweet tooth and wasn’t keen on puddings. He did, however, have a lifelong passion for clotted cream (perhaps linked to happy childhood memories of the West Country). Puddings were only tolerated if liberally smothered in Cornwall’s
finest export. We used to joke that Dad had Weetabix/strawberries/meringues/ treacle tart as the accompaniment to the cream, rather than vice versa.
In the late 80s, clotted cream wasn’t as readily available as it is now and ensuring sufficient quantities for Christmas (it is far preferable to brandy butter on mince pies and Christmas pudding) required careful planning. One year, Dad ordered an ice-cream carton’s worth of clotted cream from the high-end deli near the bank branch in London where he worked. When he went to collect the order, the deli had to confess that they had forgotten it. My dad was an extremely polite and restrained man, but the thought of Christmas without clotted cream was too much and, to the embarrassment of my middle sister (who had gone to work with him that day) – he demanded that the deli find a solution. Later that afternoon, a delivery of clotted cream from Fortnum & Mason arrived at his office in a taxi. That story is repeated whenever we eat clotted cream.
Dad died in 2014 and is a much missed husband, father and grandfather. At family celebrations, clotted cream (although not normally on Weetabix) helps us to remember him.
Weetabix and clotted cream