The Great Gluten-Free Scone Quest

The Great Gluten-Free Scone Quest

Why I'm spending weekends searching for a decent GF scone

Gluten-free scones are one of the most difficult gluten-free bakes (croissants are the only thing that seems more impossible). Poor scones can be dense at the best of times. But poor gluten-free scones are claggy, rubbery, and like one of those foam balls you used to play with as a kid.

The lack of gluten leads to a drier, crumblier scone than the traditional version. This needs to be balanced out, usually with xanthan gum, but getting the balance right is tricky.

I've spent the last couple of years trying to perfect them at home. Endless tweaks. Different flour blends. Heaps of raising agents. Less xanthan gum, more psyllium husk. Different milks. Cold hands. I've finally landed on a recipe I'm proud of. Not quite as light as a regular scone, but properly good — and close enough that a non-gluten-free eater wouldn't immediately turn their nose up.

Also, miles ahead of any gluten-free scones I've been served when eating out.

Which brings me to my great scone quest.

London should be brilliant at this

Having just moved back to London (from Dubai), I thought: London is the home of the afternoon tea. Hotels here are known for their afternoon teas, tourists make pilgrimages for them, and Londoners are pretty partial to them too. There are a lot of gluten-free people living in and visiting London, and most — if not all — hotels offer gluten-free afternoon teas. Surely somewhere has cracked the gluten-free scone.

So I compiled a list of the most discerning afternoon tea establishments — traditional hotels and brasseries — excluding anywhere overly touristy or nouveau. Then got in touch to ask if they could serve gluten-free scones outside of a full afternoon tea (a cream tea). Most hotels said no, they only serve scones as part of the full ritual, with no exceptions.

Why just scones (and not afternoon tea)

I, like most people with hEDS, have a whole host of gastrointestinal difficulties. One of the best management strategies I've found is eating small amounts frequently rather than full meals — in my case, six to seven small snacks a day at set times. A scone with a bit of cream and jam is already at the upper limit of what I can manage in one sitting, and already requires a significant amount of mental anxiety and effort. A full afternoon tea, with sandwiches and pastries and cakes and the rest, is just not feasible.

Most places are rigid about only serving scones as part of an afternoon tea. The full ritual or nothing. I understand why — it's a set menu, it's priced as a unit, the kitchen is set up for it. But a handful do offer a separate cream tea: Harrods, The Delaunay, The Lanesborough. And a few of the hotels said they'd make an exception on request — The Rosewood, The Dorchester, Claridge's. That was enough to get the project started.

The new weekend ritual

So whenever we don't have weekend plans, we go somewhere different for scones, cream, and tea. Being able to go somewhere out of the house and eat something is revolutionary for me. I haven't eaten anything out of the house, or that I haven't prepared myself, in over two years. When society and socialising revolves around food, it's isolating and lonely. So getting to do this for the first time was a really big deal. I was anxious but excited.

In theory.

What I've found so far

Claridge's. A long-standing favourite, and our first stop. The scones were pretty stodgy. Bearable, but not great. I think I was just so excited to be eating something out, in a restaurant, for the first time in years that I gave them more credit than they deserved.

The Sanderson. I went to meet a friend for her birthday. She was having the full afternoon tea, and the hotel had agreed to make an exception by serving me a gluten-free cream tea (scones and cream). They could not have been worse. When I peeled back the napkin housing them I could already tell they were not great, and as soon as I touched one I knew they were inedible. Heavy and bouncy — the knife pretty much sprang back when I tried to cut into one. Not even cream and jam could save them. I couldn't even chew the one bite I took.

Disappointed would be an understatement. Going out for a scone is the one time I can participate in a social eating occasion, and there is never anything else on the menu I can eat. So when the scones are bad, not only am I left without anything to eat (which is a problem in itself), it's a real emotional kicker.

After that, I decided I'd start taking a backup, home-baked scone with me. So even if the hotel doesn't get it right, it doesn't ruin the afternoon or leave me without food.

The Chancery Rosewood. This one deserves its own post. In short: the gluten-free scones on my first visit were claggy and not great — I ended up eating my backup scone. But the chef has since pretty much nailed the recipe, and I'd now recommend the Chancery as the top gluten-free scones in London. That post is here.

Why I'm sticking with it

The quest sounds frivolous when I write it down — spending free weekends hunting down a simple baked good at five-star hotels. But it's one of the few social outings I can actually participate in. I can't do meals. I can't share starters, mains, or puddings. I can't do brunches, tasting menus, or casual dinners with friends. The social exclusion is the hardest part of my condition.

But scones and cream I can about manage. I tend to feel a little worse the next day, but it's a small slice of normal I can cling on to. And it means a lot. So I'm going to keep going, in the hope of building a little normality to hang on to.

I'll keep posting what we find.

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This is a personal account of living with hEDS and a heavily restricted diet. It's not medical advice — dietary needs vary significantly between individuals. If you're managing similar conditions, work with a registered dietitian who understands the picture.