It is late summer in Devon. The hedgerows are speckled with blackberries and wild campion. The foxgloves, long finished flowering, rattle with seeds waiting to be brushed or knocked from their brown shells. Plum trees overhang the verges and walls from roadside gardens, their heavy load weighing down the old, crooked branches. Czar was the first plum I saw ripe this year, deep in the countryside past Dawlish (I love that moment on the train when the track seems to go out into the sea). The trees in the hedgerows are anonymous, their varieties secret to all but the expert, and they are ripening now. Plums for pie, plums for crumble, plums for jam.
Peep over the long, high hedges that line the lanes further south around Kingsbridge and you will see allotments and ancient cottage gardens with laden raspberry canes, late, purple gooseberry bushes and trees weighed down with early apples. You can almost smell the jam and jelly bubbling on the stoves. Now is probably the last chance to get fruits into the pot with an equal weight of sugar and a little water to keep us in jams for immediate eating or to last us through the winter.
It is right that there is so much fruit ripening here. Something has to provide a contrast for the West Country's clotted cream that appears in every tiny shop and post office. There are scones, of course – few of us will turn up our noses at a true cream tea in this part of the world – but what I am looking for are the "splits" that Elizabeth David talks of in the welcome reprint of her comprehensive baking book (English Bread and Yeast Cookery, Grub Street, £14.99). Soft-topped and dusted with flour, these are the buns that she describes as being made in the same manner as the Cornish split, only smaller. It was the "only smaller" that got me. The idea of a tiny yeast-risen bun, only lightly sweetened and to be eaten as part of a country-lanes cream tea, could never fail at this time of year, with the scent of freshly made jams still on the air.
You can eat a split with clotted cream and scarlet jam (raspberry perhaps, or blackcurrant) or with the loose plum jam I made this week. Softer than most, almost liquid enough to be called a sauce, my plum jam was gone in a week. First with home-made Devon splits, then with a chilled rice pudding stirred through with clotted cream.
The Devonshire split is a rare treat now (try and find one) but the dough is easy to make. It is little more than a bread dough, but enriched with butter and a little sugar. They do not keep well (you could probably freeze them) and are particularly pleasing when made small rather the norm, which is the size of a tennis ball. They become true to their name only when served, when you split them by slicing a broad smile into their top and stuffing it with jam and cream.
I often find enriched bread dough a bit of a chore. Beating in copious amounts of butter to make a brioche dough is something I might do once every five years. But these little buns are quick and fun to make, and they rise, dreamlike, within the hour. And judging from the lack of these buns on their home ground, we may well have to make them ourselves.
Also known as chudleighs, after the market town, Devonshire splits seem to have been abandoned in favour of less-capricious scones. They deserve a pretty plate, some good gossip and either clotted cream or some double cream softly whipped. Oh, and a pot of tea rather than the usual bag in a mug.
Devonshire splits
This is my variation on Elizabeth David's recipe. She used fresh yeast for hers. If you can get hold of it, you should use 30g for the amount of flour below, and cream it with the sugar before adding the warmed milk.
Makes 8-10
450g plain flour
½ tsp salt
14g dried easy-bake yeast (2 sachets)
2 tsp caster sugar
30g butter
285-300ml milk
a little extra flour for kneading
Directions
Sift the flour and salt into a large bowl. Sprinkle the yeast and caster sugar into the flour. Warm the butter and milk in a small pan until the butter has melted. Let the milk cool slightly, until it is just about cool enough to dip your finger in.
Pour enough of the milk and butter mixture into the flour to form a soft dough. You may not need all of it. The dough should be soft and slightly sticky. Mix it with your hands to form a ball.
Tip the dough out on to a floured work surface. Knead the dough lightly for about five minutes until it feels slightly elastic. Return to the bowl and cover loosely with a clean tea towel or clingfilm and put in a warm place.
After an hour or so the dough should have doubled in size. Turn the dough out once more on to the floured board and cut into 8 to 10 pieces. Roll each one into a ball, placing them on a lightly floured baking sheet as you go. I find this easiest in the palm of my hand, but other people like to roll them on the board.
Set the oven at 200C/gas mark 6. Dust the buns lightly with flour and leave to rise slightly, covered by a tea towel, for 10-15 minutes. Bake for 18-20 minutes until they are pale gold on top and sound slightly hollow when tapped on the bottom.
Remove the buns from the baking sheet to a cooling rack for a few minutes. Serve while they're still warm.
A soft-set plum jam
This is the most straightforward of jam methods, producing a softly set preserve that will keep in a jar for a couple of weeks in the fridge. To make a jam that will last longer, you will need to boil for a little longer so that it sets more firmly. Including some of the fruit's stones is not necessary, but it can add a faint almond note to the finished jam. Perfect for your Devon splits.
Makes about 4 x 400g jars
1.5kg plums
1.4kg sugar
250ml water
Directions
Rinse the plums, removing any stray leaves, stalks and twigs as you go. Halve them and remove the stones. Crack six or so of the stones with a hammer and discard the rest.
Tip the fruit, sugar, water and reserved stones into a deep, stainless steel saucepan and bring to the boil. (You will find the water only partially covers the fruit.) Turn the heat down so that the fruit simmers to partial tenderness. You can expect this to take about 30-40 minutes, depending on the ripeness of your plums.
To test if the jam is set, put a little on a cold saucer and place in the fridge for five minutes. Run your finger through the jam on the saucer. If it has formed a thin skin, it is ready to pour into jars.
Scrape off any froth with a draining spoon, lifting out the stones that have risen to the surface. Ladle the jam into warm, sterilised jars and seal.
