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.
My good friend Keena was working in India for the last few months and just returned to Seattle, eager to experience as much Pacific Northwest summer as possible in September. I'm with her on this one: It just so happens that towards the end of this month, the farmers markets I've been doing will also come to an end, so things seem like they're both simultaneously gearing up (hike! picnic! beach!) and wrapping up at the same time as I also feel a sense of wanting to cram in as much as I can before the days start getting noticeably shorter. And truly: there's no better recipe to commemorate such efforts than these fresh corn grits with oil-poached summer tomatoes.
For many years, I've always made a summer to-do list. I usually set to work on it right at the beginning of June when the days feel long and ripe with possibility. The list often involves things like learning to bake sourdough bread or making homemade ricotta, doing an epic hike I'd read about in a local magazine, training for a marathon, or reading specific novels. It is always a pretty aspirational list, and I generally don't make much of a dent in it -- resulting in the guilty feeling come late August that I'd wasted too many lazy afternoons when I could've been baking sourdough or making ricotta or doing memorable, epic hikes. But this summer is going to be a bit different: there will be no list. We wait so long in Seattle for long stretches of sunny days, and now that it stays late until 9:30 (or later?), I want to see more of our friends and find stretches of time to do not much of anything except catch up, tan our legs and eat farmers market berries. That's my list.
I received The Sprouted Kitchen Bowl + Spoon cookbook in the mail not long before we moved to our new house, and I remember lying in bed and bookmarking pages I was excited to try but also feeling overwhelmed with where to start: the truth is that this summer has been a relatively low-inspiration / low energy time in the kitchen for me. I'd been chalking it up to pregnancy but when I think back and if I'm honest with myself, my cooking style tends to be very easy and produce-driven during these warmer months. I rarely break out complicated recipes, instead relying on fresh tomatoes and corn or zucchini and homemade pesto to guide me. But last night I cracked open Sara's book and pulled out a few peaches I've had sitting on the counter, fearing their season may be nearing its end. This morning as I was making coffee, I sliced up the peaches, toasted the pecans and churned away -- having a bite (or maybe two) before getting it into the freezer to firm up.
A triple berry summer crisp made with oats, quinoa flakes and hazelnuts. Summer in a skillet.
We just returned from my mom's cabin on Lake George in upstate New York where we often spend the 4th of July. As usual, each bedroom was packed with family members (this year the couch was even occupied for a night), and our days with reading, lounging on the dock, swimming a bit, maybe jogging down the road or playing tennis if you were feeling ambitious. We drank a notable amount of seltzer water; I managed to read three books and my mom threw us a family baby shower complete with balloons, chocolate cake and Mike's rhubarb bars. In previous years, my mom has planned most of the dinners and even some lunches, but for breakfast we'd all fend for ourselves. I'd often bake a pie or a batch of brownies in the afternoon and everyone would help out where they could, but she would largely do the shopping and brunt of the cooking. This year was different: having just moved from California to Vermont, my mom had a lot on her plate and sent out an email before the holiday weekend asking us all to chip in and help with the meals. Sam and I claimed Friday dinner: we grilled sausages and Sam made his famous deviled eggs. We cut up some unusually seedy watermelon that I found at the co-op in Burlington before we drove out to the lake, and I made a summery quinoa salad that I expected to be kind of epic. The trouble was that it wasn't. I overcooked the quinoa until it was kind of a congealed mush and everything just went downhill from there. But I knew that the idea was strong -- to pack a whole grain salad with all the things of summer (corn! tomatoes! basil!) -- so when we got home to Seattle I tried again. And this time it's a winner.