Well here we are: Thanksgiving week. I had a grand post planned for you today but I’ve come down with my annual ‘could you come at a worse time?’ cold, so it’ll have to wait. Instead, we have something relatively short but sweet and perfect for those of you looking for a quick breakfast treat to whip up on Thanksgiving morning. These scones are from the Flour cookbook. You’ve heard me go on and on about Flour so I’ll spare you today. But the book is genius. Put it on your Christmas list. Pronto.
Now let’s talk scones. There are cream scone people and butter scone people. We can save ourselves a big debate at this very moment because I know you’ve got shopping to do, and I’ve got a suitcase to pack. And a camera to charge. And sunglasses to find. But let’s suffice it to say: cream scones tend to be softer and cakier (and usually a little flatter) while butter scones tread an interesting balance between hefty and flaky. They’re my absolute favorite, actually. Made with half butter and half buttermilk and creme fraiche, the cranberry orange scones I’m sharing with you today fall quietly and miraculously into both categories at the same time–the reason I’ve fallen so hard for them. They’re light and fluffy while still maintaining a nice exterior flakiness so characteristic of butter scones.
I’m off to New York tomorrow at the crack of dawn; I’m wishing you a most amazing, restful Thanksgiving with your family, significant other, pets, gaggle of friends, wailing toddlers, rowdy neighbors, or whomever and wherever you find yourself sharing the day. Thank you for joining me in my tiny corner of the Internet. I’m grateful for that. And for you. Happy Thanksgiving.
A Few Other Morning Recipes from the Archives:
Vanilla-Specked Scottish Scones
Yeasted Waffles with Pomegranate Syrup
Pumpkin Semolina Cake (while not a breakfast recipe, this is a stunner at any time of day)
Blackberry Cornmeal Muffins (experiment w/ fruit, adding apples or pears instead of berries)
Winter Morning Couscous
Mexican Hot Chocolate
While you may certainly use dried cranberries (or any other dried or fresh fruit of your choosing), use fresh cranberries here if you can; there’s more genuine flavor and a little tartness that compliments the zest of the orange and the slight hand of sugar really nicely. In her directions, Joanne bakes up the scones in one large circle and then cuts them after they’ve cooled. I prefer cutting and separating them straight away so the edges get crisp just like the top.
Adapted from: Flour
Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat the oven to 350 F.
Using a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment (or a hand-held mixer), mix together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and sugar on low speed for 10 second until just combined. Add the orange zest and cranberries and mix another few seconds to combine.
Scatter the butter over the top of the mixed dry ingredients and beat on low for about 20-30 seconds, or until the butter is slightly broken down and nickel-sized pieces are still visible. In a separate small bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, creme fraiche, and whole egg until well mixed. On low speed, pour the buttermilk mixture into the flour-butter mixture and beat for 20-30 seconds, or just until the dough comes together. It’s o.k. if there’s a little loose flour at the bottom of the bowl.
Gather and turn it over in the bowl so that it picks up all the loose flour. Dump dough onto a clean counter top and pat it into an 8-inch circle about 1 inch thick. Brush the egg yolk over the top of the circle and sprinkle sanding sugar across the top. Cut the circle into 8 wedges and lay each wedge out onto a baking sheet. Bake for 20-30 minutes or until they’re golden brown on the top and around the edges. Transfer to a wire rack to cool for 30 minutes. The scones taste best when eaten the same day, but are fine stored in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.
On Monday our little family of three is headed to the airport at 6 am to board our first with-baby cross-country trip. We'll be visiting Sam's family in New Jersey for a few days, then renting a car and driving over to meet up with my family at my mom's lake house in the Adirondacks. Sam's younger sister and her kids have yet to meet Oliver; my grandpa has yet to meet him, and Oliver has yet to take a dunk in a lake, see a firefly, or spend quality time with energetic dogs -- of which there will be three. A lot of firsts. This week my family has been madly texting, volunteering to make certain meals or sweets on assigned days while we're at the cabin and it got me thinking about really simple, effortless summer desserts -- in particular, ones that you can make while staying in a house with an unfamiliar kitchen and unfamiliar equipment and still do a pretty bang-up job. I think fruit crisp is just that thing.
Somehow, in what seems to have been a blink of an eye, we have a six month old baby. In some ways I can't remember a time we didn't have an Oliver, and in other ways it's all a blur broken up by a few holidays (a Thanksgiving thanks to grocery store takeout, and our very first Christmas in Seattle), a few family visits, a one-day road trip to Portland, a birthday dinner out, a birthday cake, weekend drives to nowhere in particular, swimming at the pool with Oliver, weekly get-togethers with our parent's group, doctor's visits, hundreds of walks around the neighborhood, hundreds of cups of coffee, dozens (or more?) of scoops of ice cream. Most of the worrying about keeping a baby alive has made way for other concerns, and Oliver's need for constant stimulation or soothing walks and car rides has been traded for stretches of time playing with a new toy or checking out his surroundings. In truth, it's thanks to that tiny bit of baby independence that this humble, summery cake came to be in the first place. So we've all got an Oliver to thank for that. Or, really, we have a Yossi Arefi to thank, as it's from her beautiful new cookbook that I've bookmarked heavily and am eager to continue exploring.
We walked to the library last week and I had a strange realization standing in line watching Sam check out his usual massive stack of books: Will I ever have the time to read stacks of books again? I used to be much more of a reader than I am today -- a fact I'm not at all proud of. But when evening rolls around and the more formal workday ends, I find emails and other odds and ends creep in. Walking home from the library, I began obsessing over free time for reading, asking Sam if we'd ever be those two old people who study bird manuals and can recognize birds on walks. I want to have the time to read bird manuals someday. For now though, we're young and we're working a lot. We did sneak away on that one-night camping trip I told you about, and cooked some interesting, haphazard meals which I hope to share with you soon. For now though, for summer: a strawberry dessert recipe.
Much like friends, types of Sunday mornings, or books -- there are many different kinds of desserts. Sometimes you may be in the mood for a light French cake piled high with summer fruit. Other days, a thick slice of fragrant pound cake will do. And then there are those days when you crave a rich chocolate mousse that you share after a night of good conversation and a little too much wine. But let's be honest. When it comes right down to it, the most basic and unassuming dessert of all is sometimes the only one that will do. A good and simple affair. Vanilla ice cream. So I want to talk about that today--about a dessert that withstands the test of time, that will always be there for you. A dessert that is far from trendy, that doesn't play favorites or trick you into thinking it's something that it's not. It's a good foundation. A solid beginning.
[ Pie. if you've been around here much in the last few months, you know that I make pie. A lot of pie. And I'm particularly excited to share this pie with you today because it helped me break out of a rut. A pie rut. A baking rut. A Marge inspiration rut.