A dazzle of morning sun fills my kitchen this morning.
The coffee pot is burbling, and the air smells sweetly of vanilla beans.
I can't wait to make a batch of berry scones.
I didn't develop scone madness until I was 40 years old. I was traveling in England, and I stopped at a charming market in Stow-on-the-Wold. I bought a cranberry scone and scarfed it down
without a drop of clotted cream. I came home to Tennessee with five extra pounds
and ten more pounds of British cookbooks.
Today I am missing the green, rolling hills of England. I don't know if I will ever return. But that's fine, because food is an excellent tool for armchair travellers. Whenever I make scones,
I am transported back to the Cotswolds.
Rattlebridge Farm's Berry Scones2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
3 Tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled and cut into tiny pieces
1 egg, beaten
1 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup dried berries
Baileys Irish Cream
Egg wash (with a pinch of salt)
...
Place dried berries into a bowl. Pour Baileys Irish Cream over berries and set aside. Preheat oven to 375-400 degrees (depending on your oven's temperament). Sift dry ingredients. Use a pastry blender to work in the butter. When the mixture is crumbly, add buttermilk and egg. Blend.
Drain berries and work them into the dough. Knead gently. The dough will be sticky, and you might want to spray Pam onto your hands. Turn the dough onto a floured board. Run a rolling pin over the dough (you'll want the dough to be about 2" high). Cut out the scones. I use a small mug. Place scones on a greased baking pan. Brush tops with egg wash.
Bake in a pre-heated oven for 15 minutes or until lightly browned.
I love this recipe because it's forgiving to a slob like myself. The result is like a biscuit on steroids--cakey, dense, and faintly sweet. The scone lends itself to variations: you can add nuts, herbs, chocolate, lemon or orange zest, and berries.
In return, the scone asks one thing: don't overwork the dough.
And it's tempting--because scone dough is sticky. I always have to remind myself to use a light touch.
Sometimes I'm in the mood for a bite-sized, round scone. Other times I will shape the dough into a fat circle, roughly the size of a small, one-layer cake, and serve it in wedges.
The "dressing" of a scone is a serious matter across the pond. Check out
Baking for Britain for a primer on how folks in the West Country position their cream and jam.
I'll take mine hot or cold, with or without cream, any time of the day: breakfast, afternoon tea, or a midnight snack.
A
Metamorphosis Monday contribution.
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