Put the cornflour into a bowl, then slowly whisk in the milk and keep whisking until you have banished every lump. Now beat in the egg yolk and salt, and set aside somewhere within easy reach of the hob.

Melt the butter in a small, heavy-based saucepan, over a medium-high heat, and then whisk in the sugar. It will look grainy and clumpy at these early stages — rather like lemon sorbet — but keep whisking and it will become first a toffee-like goo, and then a smooth and placid butterscotch-coloured lake. Once it begins to bubble, swirl the pan frequently, until it becomes a rich, deep, glossy teak and begins to smoke. Don’t let it burn, obviously, but don’t be so timorous that you fail to get that smoky caramel taste.

Take the pan off the heat and whisk in the cream, which will bubble up vociferously, so be careful, and keep whisking until it stops bubbling. Should there be any lumps at this stage, simply return the pan to a low heat and stir until dissolved.

Pour half this hot mixture into the milk and egg and whisk to incorporate. When it’s smooth, pour the contents of the bowl back into the butterscotch pan, using a spatula to scrape every last bit in, put over a medium-high heat and whisk until it is gorgeously thick. This should take a minute or so.

For ease, pour into a heatproof jug and thence into your serving glasses. The minute you’ve filled the glasses, press some cling film or dampened baking parchment directly on top of the butterscotch puddings to prevent a skin forming and leave to cool. You can eat these as soon as they’re cold. On serving, remove the cling film or baking parchment and swirl the tops with the back of a teaspoon. Should you feel like squirting a rosette of cream on top and grating some chocolate over it, why should I be the person to stop you?