If your Facebook feed looks anything like mine, you probably are under the impression that everyone in the world is:
a. buying a new house
or
b. getting pregnant and having babies
Seriously, my Facebook feed is nothing but photographs of fetuses, bellies, and babies, and exterior house shots, stacks of boxes, and shiny new house keys. Oh, and there are still a lot of photos of cats and food (but not cat food). These are my friends, after all.
Because these are my friends, fortunately I don’t see a ton of the inappropriately first-person-plural updates about infant waste elimination. (You know what I’m talking about: “We’ve already filled five diapers with poop today and it’s not even noon!” We?? I really hope that’s not something you’re doing with your baby.)
In fact, I felt rather proud of one of my best friends when she posted something referring to a poop situation as a “pants disaster.” Understated, humorous, and leaves something to the imagination, even if I choose not to imagine it. Now that’s what I’m looking for in classy baby-related status updates.
I actually still owe this classy new mom and her husband (also a wonderful friend) a post-baby dinner. I have a terrible habit of offering to make things for people and then not following through with it. Not because I don’t want to follow through or because I’m flaky and forget about it. I end up with performance anxiety about the final product, whether it be a painting or vegetarian enchiladas. There’s something unsettling about trying a new recipe and sending it off for someone else to consume, without having tasted it yourself first.
So, when our friends moved to a new house with a baby, I remembered that I had told them several months before that I’d make them a meal after the baby was born. Oops. In the midst of packing, moving, and unpacking, knowing dinner was waiting in the fridge or freezer would probably be really helpful. But I still hadn’t had a chance to test an enchilada recipe. Guilt and obligation versus perfectionism and procrastination.
I ended up compromising by baking scones.
In their old house, we shared lots of evenings together. Games were played, movies were watched, and bottles of wine and pounds of cheese were consumed.* For some reason, separate nights eating strawberries and gingersnaps also stand out to me. So strawberry & ginger scones seemed like a good idea.
Something sweet with a little spice.
I used Smitten Kitchen’s recipe. She calls them biscuits, but also refers to them as scones. I just think they’re delicious. I’ve made buttermilk scones before, but these use heavy cream instead. They really do taste creamy, which is lovely with the strawberries.
I followed the recipe exactly except for also adding in about a tablespoon of fresh grated ginger. They did not turn out very gingery, although I wondered if I just did not thoroughly stir in the ginger and someone got a very gingery bite.
If I was going to make them again, I might sprinkle a little raw sugar on top. I like when scones have a bit of crunchy crust on top, and since these are not very sweet to begin with, a little extra sugar wouldn’t make them too sweet.
Oh, one more thing. I didn’t feel like using biscuit cutters, so I shaped the dough into a rectangle, about 3/4 inch thick, and divided it into 8 squares. Further halving each square diagonally yields a good scone portion, in my opinion, but if you want a larger, more indulgent scone, I fully support your decision.
*Let’s just assume I mean cumulatively over the years, and not per evening.
Anything But Academia 