We eat scones, a lot. Yes, we like them, but the real reason we eat them so frequently is that I forget to bake our daily bread, a lot. I make them so often, a scone post felt like giving a recipe for white rice. Even if you can't live without white rice, nobody wants to read a sonnet about it. Right. But, sometimes, serendipity steps in and turns unassuming, unremarkable little scones into a blog post.
Amendment 10 May 2012 : My apologies to readers who may have tried out the cheese and pepper scone recipe and had unsatisfactory results. Apparently when I wrote the recipe, my brain was still in a slight fog. It should have read "2 tsp cream of tartar and 1 tsp baking soda" instead of "2 tsp baking soda and 1 tsp cream of tartar". The recipe below has been amended.
Anyway, I was getting increasingly forgetful, much to the chagrin of my bread adoring youngest, to whom breakfast, if bacon is not on the table, should be slice of bread, kaya, slice of bread.
Option three should be slice of bread, Nutella, another slice of bread (I know, shocking isn't it?) But, never, never scones. He's the anomaly in our scone loving family.
Sunday morning, I rolled out of bed, blurry eyed and slightly dazed. I was sure someone had replaced my head with one of those ovoid watermelons, big as a newborn babe, while I slept. I could hear the mushy, juice soaked flesh sloshing around inside, or was that my brain? After the boys had gone to bed the night before, Hubs had stirred up a seemingly unending line of Moscow mules, to mark the end of a work week so fraught with tension, we were both frazzled by Friday. He makes a mean cocktail, and I did each one justice.
What can I say? Ending each week with job intact, when you've been through the wringer, especially in unclement economic climes IS cause for celebration, and we were too tired to go out for drinks. Besides, I could never say no to anything with ginger beer in it.
I opened the bread bin and realised I'd forgotten about the bread, AGAIN. Pancakes? Ugh. Too much time at the stove; and not a good idea whilst balancing a swollen melon at the end of my neck. Porridge for the boys, hair of the dog for Hubs and me?!? Perfect, if I wanted a mutiny and an alcohol induced stupor, though the second might prove handy for the sermon I would be paying rapt attention to later. Scones again then.
Chocolate chips, usually the backbone of our breakfast scones, was the other thing I had run out of. Desperate, I rummaged through the fridge and found a wedge of cheddar that had gone dry and crumbly around the edges. It would have made dismal sandwiches, but for scones, it grated beautifully. The scones were coming along, the coffee dripping dutifully and slowly wafting wakefulness into my foggy brain.
I was feeling better, singing along to Adam Levine, and then, the pepper shaker on the elevated breakfast counter fell onto the edge of my mixing bowl as I was cutting the butter into the flour. Before I could react, the cap had flown off and a shower of dark granules had descended on my flour and butter. Holy *^%?$(*&^?!?% !!!. Was there a toyol in the house?!? And who had forgotten to cap the pepper, AGAIN!?? I was shocked sneezeless and just stared at the blanket of black grains for about five seconds. Then, frantically, I scooped up as much pepper as I could. I got most of it, but enough had worked its way into the flour to give the mix a speckled look and unmistakably peppery smell. No time for another batch! Church was barely two hours away, and the boys were still snug in bed, so into the oven they went.
At the table, all noses were twitching like rabbits. Hubs piped up first. "Pepper scones?", with eyebrows raised. "Umm..... CHEESE and pepper scones! It's the latest thing ", I lied, pouring more coffee to drown out the pepper aroma. "Hmm.... it's nice". Huh?! I grabbed one and bit in. They were good. Hah! Left my tongue a little numb, tickled my sinuses, but they actually were good. Post worthy good! And, you know, my head was beginning to feel lighter...
Half eaten scone dropped, I grabbed what was left on the dish, my camera and headed out to the balcony. Style, style, style, snap, snap, snap and.... snap! Twenty minutes and I was done; fastest post ever. Must have been something in those Moscow Mules ;) Gobbled two more, chased them with a coffee, into the shower and out the door with minutes to spare. Best thing was, as we were about to walk into church, my youngest whispered in my ear, "Mummy, can we have the pepper scones again, next time you forget the bread? *grin*