Okay but like one time I was taking a math test and it had those weird word problems and one was about someone buying 20 scones and all I could think about was freaking snowbaz and then the other was talking about two ppl running or something and one was named “Misha” and I just about lost it
Grandma Hill’s Raspberry White Chocolate Scones (as interpreted by me, because the original recipe card is about 10 words long and basically incomprehensible)
3 cups flour
1/3 cup sugar
2 ½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda
¾ tsp salt
¾ cup cold butter
1 cup buttermilk
a bag of white chocolate chips (i use ¾ of a normal 16 oz bag, but obviously add as much as you want!!)
raspberry jam or preserves
1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.
2. Mix all dry ingredients together in a large mixing bowl (stand mixer with a dough hook will make things easier but I don’t have one so I just use a spoon and my hands like an ANIMAL)
3. Grate butter into the dry mix with a cheese grater. If you don’t have a cheese grater, cutting the butter into small cubes and mixing with a pastry cutter is my preferred method anyway! You just want the butter in tiny grains, but not actually combined with the flour.
4. Add chocolate chips and buttermilk. Mix only until combined, try not to overmix! Remember we want the butter to not be completely combined with the rest of the dough, so it stays fluffy and crumbly.
5. Divide the dough into 3 equal portions, then divide each portion in half. Flatten the halves into equal circles, and sandwich a layer of raspberry jam or preserves between the circles. Sprinkle with sugar (the coarser the sugar is, the better!). Cut into six equal slices, like a pie.
6. Butter and flour two or three cooking sheets, enough so you can give each scone some room - they will spread a little while they cook. Stick them in the oven and cook for about 10 minutes. Keep an eye on them - you only want them to brown JUST slightly on top. Transfer them to a cooling rack ASAP so they don’t stick to the baking tray.
7. (i’m not telling you how to live your life but like…. eat them while they’re warm. Or warm them up in the microwave later 👌👌👌)
Just wanted to post a little update about my progress so far… Both pieces are cut, I also trimmed the front piece’s raw edges with overlock stitch. Working on the embroidery now, but my eyes are killing me!!! So, it’s time to hit the bed…
I have always found embroidery so therapeutic and calming. The sound of the needle as it goes through the fabric and watching it become smth more beautiful in very small, patient steps. Sometimes I wish I lived in the times women had no other entertainment than doing embroidery, sitting at the porch. Women’s rights, gender equality, feminism? Ugghhh, screw all that! Let’s sit at our porches and work on our embroideries while we’re sipping tea from our fancy cups and stuffing our faces with scones. Real life outside the house is too complicated, embroidery is simple!
(for the i love you ask meme) 8 for Percy and Keyleth.
8. As an apology
In an wholly unexpected turn of events, Percy yields first.
He shows up outside the garden Keyleth has claimed as her own with a jar in one hand and a basket in the other, and coughs a few times. The wind turns round him like a dancer, sending his coat flapping before it blows past. Chimes ring somewhere, high tinkling notes skipping across the lawn.
“You can come in,” says Keyleth, her voice raw and hollow. “It’s your garden.”
“I brought scones,” he says. He holds them in front of him like a toll as he crosses the threshold.
Keyleth’s garden is a wild thing with its own untamed sort of order. Flowerbeds make a maze out of the once-neat lawn, and ivy grows along old stone walls, dark creeping vines speckled with tiny pale flowers.
“Keyleth?” he asks, carefully winding his way along the overgrown path.
“Up here,” she says, and he cranes his head up to see her wedged halfway up the towering maple in the middle of the garden. Percy eyes the tree, considering. He could make it. Probably.
“I brought scones,” he repeats, and Keyleth unfolds herself like a flower, red and orange among the frail green buds. “I thought you might be hungry.”
He doesn’t make mention that he is the reason she might be hungry, that their argument is why she skipped breakfast. It hangs heavy in the air between them.
She slips out of the tree with easy grace, long limbs moving among the easy bend and shift of nature with an aching familiarity, and Percy feels like he is intruding on something. He’s always been a stubborn bastard, though.
She is too, at heart. It’s why they get along so well. And why their arguments are so often… Well.
“And I brought jam,” he adds when she stand before him, brushing twigs from her shirt. “Orange.”
“Thank you,” she says, a little stiff. “Do–– Will you join me?”
“If you want.”
They spread his coat upon the dewy grass and settle among snapdragons and pansies, and the scones are warm from the oven, and the jam is sweet and sticky, and as they eat side by side the tension bleeds away.
“I love you,” says Percy, which is as close to I’m sorry as he will get.
“I love you, too,” says Keyleth, who knows what he means. She offers him the last scone. Steam rises from the inside as he breaks it in two.
The wind weaves through the garden, brisk and wild, and it sends the flowers dancing around them, and the air smells like oranges.