After the junket my mind turns to butter. JA had kindly been saving the top of the milk for me, a few days worth, once again from her hand-milked pretty Jersey cow. Happily I churned the jar of buttercup-y cream until the tell-tale thumps told me that the butter had come away from the buttermilk. What a cheerful looking pat of butter! A little pat of gold! Having gorged on hot toast and dripping butter I made scones. Proper, proper, proper scones. A perfect use of the remaining butter while it was still spanking fresh and, of course, the buttermilk.
