Yorkshire Fat Rascals

There's a particular kind of afternoon these are made for. The light has gone flat by three. The wind is doing something irritable at the windows. You've been promising yourself you'd put the kettle on for an hour and not quite managing it. That's when a fat rascal earns its name.

They're a Yorkshire thing, properly. Half scone, half rock cake, half fruitcake, which is too many halves but that's the trouble with describing them. Bettys of Harrogate made them famous and rightly so, but the recipe is older than any tearoom and belongs in home kitchens. Spice, citrus zest, dried fruit, butter rubbed cold into flour, and a glossy egg-washed top studded with almonds and glacé cherries arranged as a face. The face is non-negotiable. A fat rascal without a face is just a fruit scone with delusions.

The trick, if there is one, is restraint. Don't overwork the dough. Don't be shy with the spice. Don't bake them pale; they want to come out of the oven properly burnished, almost too dark, the glaze caught and shining and the almonds tipped with brown. And don't, whatever you do, eat one straight away. Five minutes on the rack is the difference between a hot, crumbly mouthful and one that holds together long enough to taste like itself.

I wrote them down in the notebook the first time I made a batch that came out right. The note says: cherries for eyes, almonds for grin, January, two cups of tea. That was years ago. The recipe hasn't changed since.