The Cycling Sconnoisseur — the adventure begins!
A long time coming
This has been a long time coming… and I’ve bleated on about sharing my stories of cycling and scones for so long to anyone who has shown even the slightest bit of interest. During this time I’ve pootled my way along many a route, liberating a fair few establishments of their baked delicacies, with quality ranging from questionably gap-filling to feeling dramatically distraught that this is the final nibble…
A varying range of destinations visited too, from achingly cool hipster bike cafes, to chintzy doily-adorned tearooms, offering an equally diverse range of ambiences from clunky, noisy, far-too-much-going-on-and-messing-with-my-chakras-man, to peaceful pictures of perfection and, sometimes, presenting opportunities to meet some of the most wonderful and interesting folk. Service too is wildly variable; from warm and welcoming to withering glances and, at worst, seeming absolute inconvenience.
During this time I’ve even managed to introduce (persuade?) some of my newer acquaintances to the joys of the ‘half and half partnership’ — that glorious combo of the half sweet and half savoury scone, a la ‘main course and dessert’. Result! However my insistence that the scone is halved vertically down the middle so as to get a fair shout of top and bottom is sometimes a tough one to explain… and, it seems, an even tougher one for my scone-partner to comprehend, but hey Calum and Jen, thanks for being willing punters!
What’s in a name?
The ‘Sconnoisseur’ is a term coined by one of my favourite people in the world; Dave — aka Marchy — a Sussex-dwelling Brummie whose past vocations include roadie-ing for Public Enemy, strumming in a rock band, and promoting nightclubs, though now more commonly found being a hipster father, updating spreadsheets, and coaxing middle-aged men in lycra round a running track. He gave me this name as a result of my ability to get excited about this humble British delicacy, which inspired me to use the moniker to good effect by documenting the journey of this carb-loving character on the many adventures — mostly by bike, usually involving an adventure (mishap) of sorts — around the cafes and kitchens that dare to open their doors to my discerning whims.
Which leads me to today… a dreich day as they say here. Which is to say it’s absolutely peshing it down and I’m soaked through – despite being covered head to toe in some spectacularly unsexy waterproofs. Wi woo!
I was feeling a little ‘meh’, not just at being soaked to the skin, but having just bade a sad farewell to some dear friends about to emigrate to sunnier shores. It’s my first visit to the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art here in my home city, and I felt it was a good place to put this new persona to work on her first assignment as a lover of all things cultural too. Museum cafes? Yes please! Squelching up to the entrance my cockles were warmed by the grand, neon-lit assurance that ‘everything is going to be alright’. First things first, scone watch, culture can come later. The super-friendly chap on the front desk gave me a jovial welcome, confirming that the café did serve scones (yep, ‘scones?!’ was my somewhat desperate, breathy greeting upon stumbling through the doors). He duly backed this up with the personal reassurance that he’d tested them all. He looked like a man who knows his carbs and that was good enough for me. Onwards!
Wet clothing was duly discarded as I clonked and skidded my cleaty feet across the grand hallway and towards the café with some desperation, to the bemusement of the assistant. Minor panic — no scones on display in the treats cabinet! Oh no, please don’t let this be! “Do you have scones?” My panic was dissipated as the assistant pointed to a mirage-like pile on the shelf behind her, before diplomatically inviting me to join the queue of customers. Eek, such was my excitement that my pastry-mist had obscured the couple who were mid-order with her colleague at the coffee machine.
Anyway, on with the all-important assessment. I ordered a cheese scone — the only savoury offering available, as I was in no mood for sweet treats today. Whilst a little on the small side, this herby nibble had a decent crumble — if erring on the dry side — with a pleasing amount of cheese. A little salty, even for this salt-lover. My extra hot soy flay white (yes, I know) was a good strong one, with a nice layer in which to indulge myself with a discreet dunk. Sorry.
In terms of ambience this won’t be high on my ‘must come back soon’ list, I’d have preferred a window seat to take in the views of gardens that continued to be liberally watered by the torrential downpour, but I took what I could at this peak time, which left me smack bang in the middle of the ‘action’. Poor acoustics made for a din of chatter, a percussion of clashing crockery and a continually clattering and screaming coffee machine. The tables were a little grubby too, though I’m guessing most visitors had also made a beeline for the café en-masse to escape the rain before embarking on their respective cultural crusades.
Sustenance and commentary complete, I packed my soggy bag and headed off for a very pleasant couple of hours in the galleries, punctuated by the gift shop for yet more postcards that I don’t need.
I’ve decided not to rate my adventures by numbers and so will go with words of my own making. The small size, clashing backdrop and my grumbling tum meant this was all over too quickly for my liking. There was sadly no savouring to be had today.
Ride — a definite ‘not worthy of sharing’ (got lost on wet and busy roads)
Scone — ‘averagely ok’
Ambience — ‘not a one for chilling and pondering’
