I was there about a week ago in a perfectly British mood (don't tell my dad!) when the muses hinted that a scone would help them work. I complied, skipping my normal choice of peach for a nice-looking chocolate chip model. To say that the muses were right is a desperate understatement: the scone was absolutely delicious, with notes of lemon zest and rose water that made my coconut tea so much creamier. I was not finished before the muses insisted that we try scones at our hobbit kitchen.
I was already afraid of this venture. I had never made scones, and they seemed even more daunting than delicate French crepes. What's worse, scones required an oven. I know that the word "oven" occurs in Lenny's label, but I wouldn't call him an oven if he wasn't listening. And then there was recipe choices. Epicurious offered a fair share of fancy scone recipes, and for a few days I was stuck in an almost painful selection process. Ben made this process much easier one day by throwing a bag of miniature chocolate chips in our shopping bag. Very well, chocolate chip scones it shall be.
My noni (Norwegian grandmother) called me while I was pulling my ingredients together. Her one piece of advice about the scones was, "make sure your butter is as cold as possible." I shrugged at her strange-sounding advice, but took it to heart nonetheless. It may be the best advice ever given about scone making, as part of the recipe calls for hand-kneading diced butter into the flour/sugar mixture. This, by the way, is the most entertaining part of scone making next to eating them. Ben helped me move the bowl (with my buttery hands in it!) to the couch so I could knead and watch "The Tudors". I may have kneaded far longer than necessary because it was so fun.
Soon it was time to start baking, which involved quickly doling out dough and constantly switching trays into Lenny. Baking also involved cooking two to four scones at a time because of Lenny's size (the recipe made about ten). As a result of my cupcake debacle, I no longer trust Lenny with the timing called for in recipes. Instead, I shifted Ben's giant computer chair (straight out of a James Bond villain scene, I swear) and guarded the scones diligently. They ended up needed six to eight less minutes than the recipe called for, so I am glad I was so obsessive.
The scones were excellent, easily the best thing to come from Lenny to date. The dough was slightly buttery and held the lemon zest flavor well. I was actually quite surprised how well the lemon zest played against the chocolate. I have tried them as a breakfast side, a teatime snack, and a dessert, and they play every part well. My favorite, though, is with teatime after Ben gets home from work. They go well with many sorts of teas (I prefer a nice chai with them), and pair nice with fancy old literature on a clear afternoon. Not that I've tried this.
I shared the scones with everyone - neighbors, strangers, Ben's ex girlfriends - looking for some critique for next time. The only criticism was that I had not made enough. Taking this to heart, I doubled the recipe and set out with baked treats to Alise's house last Saturday to welcome her new horse, Picasso Moon, to the family. I had almost two dozen scones for the small crowd who came out. Everyone was thrilled to have some warm baked goods waiting for them in the barn, given that Labor Day weekend was marked with drizzly rain. In fact, the scones seemed more welcome at times than dry towels. Alise, our feisty hostess, snuck out of the downpour several times to grab a second, a third, another one.
I started with two dozen scones, and traveled all over Oregon to share them. By Sunday they were all gone. I am so glad that the second round of my baking lab was so welcomed, because it came with a fairly painful cost... My left arm and hand are peppered with tiny burns from quick tray changes with Lenny. Every dab of lanacane and inventive curse word was worth it, though. This Spartan Lab was a wild success, and likely will be a constant project.
No comments:
Post a Comment