Scones at the Nongs

Had enough of work. I decided to take Tuesday off this week to hang out with bananas and the cherub. He's started to show a much wider interest in the world and seems to get irritated when stuck at home so we thought we'd head out somewhere. Where do you take a four month old in Melbourne during winter when shopping centres are getting a little stale? (Actually they've just opened some new sections at Doncaster Shoppingtown including the food court and it's looking good).

To the 'nongs!!! Bananas and I have long loved heading down to the Dandenong mountains for scones at Miss Marples. If you've never been there they have a very simple menu but it's all done well - the beef cottage pie, quiche and smoked salmon fingers are our faves. Don't worry it's not the salmon that has fingers (although I believe you can get that in Tassie?!?), but it's like an open sandwich cut into strips (like fingers) or maybe you're supposed or eat them with your fingers...



















But the highlight is the scones. I would insist that it's pronounced "scown" by the way (like in "own"). A "scon" is a school boy's way of showing manly affection by rubbing his knuckles on your head, and anyway, only peasants pronounce it scon :) But I digress...

Now even if you can pronounce it right I'd argue that the scones at Miss Marples are more like a tea bread. They aren't the right shape and their kinda fluffy, but they *are* pretty good and the "rather superb" jam they present with it is about as close to perfection as stewed fruit can get. Obviously lashings of thick cream are mandatory. Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout


















It nearly becomes a day trip these days with the shortness of daylight in winter and the time it takes to get out of the house with Eggs junior once you take a wonder around down there. You can always find new stuff in the puppet shop down the road from Miss Marples and once junior gets a bit older there's a whole bunch of stuff from there I can see my self stepping on in my lounge room. Despite the normal complications of taking a baby anywhere it was a great family "day" out. While it doesn't have the excitement of a track day at Winton or a morning blat on the bike through Reefton spur, "family" type fun is a different kind of fun. It gives you the kind of satisfaction that will most likely turn me into the pot-bellied older family men at work but meh - by the time you hit 30 a guy *knows* he no longer has a chance at a professional sporting career so what does it matter (no golf doesn't count, although hotdog eating might come close).