Sometimes I can’t help myself. The urge to make scones is like the lemming’s natural instinct for suicidal cliff-jumping or a crack-addicts fondness for white crystals. My scone driven desire consumes me until I just can’t fight it anymore and I find myself measuring, pouring, grating and baking….and then gorging on what I consider to be one of the world’s most perfect foods.
Cally decided she was going to “pretend baking” so she placed a number of her plastic fruits and vegetables on a cooling rack and then gently set the wobbling tray into the oven. “Now Cally,”I said, “remember that those are in there. We don’t want to turn the oven on later and have them melt.”
“I won’t mommy,” she answered and then went bounding off to play in the living room while her food ‘cooked’.
“Mental note to self- don’t forget those are in there either.” I internalized and then promptly erased their existence from my memory.
An hour later I was fully immersed in the ecstatic throws of scone-delirium. I sifted and poured, blended and grated, stirred and kneaded myself into a pre-scone-consumption frenzy. In my half-blind madness I clicked the oven on to 425F with fully formed visuals of golden baked goodies already dancing before my eyes….
The scones were ready for baking, the oven was plenty hot…but something didn’t smell quite right.
“Woah- what’s that smoke coming from?” I said, a little worried. I flung open the oven door to discover the inside ablaze.
“Shit!” I said as I shoved on my oven gloved and wrenched the grill, still alight with dripping plastic flame out of the oven and hurtled to the back door. “Shit!” the plastic burned as it dripped on my foot.
I repeated my new mantra under my breath every thirty second for the next half hour as I calmed down my traumatized four year old, as I scraped burnt plastic from the bottom of the oven, as I nursed my burnt foot and as I poked at the green and white melted mess that fused the cooling rack to the oven rack. Fantasies of soft, chewy and tender scones were totally obliterated from my disgruntled reality.
And then at four, with the oven scoured, my child calm, one oven rack still operational and life returned to a precarious normal I once again attacked my mixing bowls with the same lunacy that possesses sharks at a feeding frenzy. Half an hour later, I was devouring the most delicious cranberry lemon scones this side of the pond.
2 c. white flour (I generally mix whole wheat flour with white to give the semblance that baked goods are nutritious but gosh darn it! They are simply better with just white flour).
3 Tbsp sugar
zest from one grated lemon
2 tsp baking powder
Mix these ingredients together and the cut in
4 Tbsp salted butter.
In a measuring cup combine
the juice of one lemon
and fill your measuring cup to the 3/4 c. mark with half and half cream.
Mix wet and dry together and mush the dough around until it gets heavy and then cut it into scones and place them on a greased cookie sheet.
Bake at 425F for about 12 minutes. Watch for the golden edges.