I’m over winter. This hasn’t even been a particularly brutal one, outside of the vast majority of January being dipped in polar vortex, but I am done. Let me repeat:
I. Am. Done.
I have been blowing through my tea reserves and wearing holes in my wool blanket this winter. I seem to be perpetually cold, despite the toasty temp to which my house is set. I need warmth. Every time I’ve been baking for my #365daysofbaking, that oven door stays WIDE open after I’ve turned off the oven, this way I can absorb any more heat that is available.
Alas, I’m not in a place where I can travel at the moment between work and my kids’ ski season, and yes… bullshit life issues that seem to be constant. Maybe I’ll get to those later. Maybe.
In my quest for some tropical warmth via food, I came across Barry and his blog Rock Recipes. He’s apparently a hot foodie topic in Canada, and when I looked up where he lives… damn. Just damn. St. John’s, Newfoundland, Canada. Dude, you are way the fuck up there!
And I thought I was cold.
Barry has this delightful little recipe for Apricot Coconut Scones (and for the record, he must have a light studio), and I needed some semblance of warmth in my life- even if just through tropical sounding ingredients.
So, I let the tropics come to me.
Barry describes these scones as “…tender little scones with great coconut flavour and sweet chunks of dried apricot baked right in. A dainty and delicious addition to afternoon tea.”
Dude, I love you. I just love you, Barry. [so says the pirate swilling sailor mouthed baker here in NH]
Scones are so easy to make, you’re a fool not to make some every day.
Some Random Tips:
If you’ve never worked with sticky dried fruits like cherries or apricots, then you know they can be a bitch to cut into small bits, even with a hyper-sharp knife. It works really well to snip, snip the lil’ buggers with some kitchen shears, and doesn’t take any more time.
There is a trick to scone making: Use cold butter, cut it into small chunks, then use your fingers or a stiff pastry cutter to cut the butter into the flour.
Love those bright pops of color in the flour/butter mixture. They added a bright, tangy chewiness to the scone.
Now, Barry says to roll out the dough to 3/4″ thick, and you will get 18 small scones when using a 1 1/2″ biscuit cutter. When I rolled it out to 3/4″ I thought, “No way am I going to get 18 scones from this,” so I rolled it a bit more.
Shoulda listened to good ole’ Barry. His wee scones had a nice high rise. Mine had a decent rise, but I need to make sure I only roll to 3/4″ thick next time. Less scones. More rise.
I got more scones – about 5 more – but none baked with that cute high rise like Barry’s. Boo.
You’re right, these are tasty lil’ nuggets that are dainty and delicious, Mr. Barry. At first, I thought, “Hmmmm. These need something more,” but then I thought back to the scones I had in London last year – and my BFF Lynn and I did tea time every day like it was our job – and all the scones were mildly sweet, served with delicious jam, almost as if the scone were a vessel of sorts for the yummy jam. Or maybe the jam and scone were pals who were meeting in the sandbox for a joyous romp together. When I added my grapefruit marmalade, it was POW, tropical love.
I think everything is better with my grapefruit marmalade. Sunshine in a jar, I think I shall call it.
Americans miss the boat when we make those cloying sweet, drenched in glaze scones. This ain’t our recipe, folks. When you have the real deal, you get why the scone should be mildly sweet – some of the better marmalades I’ve had came from Ireland and England, made in some lovely woman’s home kitchen. This is why you take B-n-B tours of the UK countryside – the homemade goodies.
Truth be told, I already am.
So I got out my depression glass and the cute china set I got from the insanely amazing Château de la Chèvre d’or hotel in Eze, France to make my pretty picture below. I had to get the china set… the literal translation is the “Castle of the Golden Goat”…and their china had golden goats on it.
Don’t judge, you’d have sent it home, as well.
I think I need a light diffuser. Or someone to just come take food pictures for me. Barry has one or the other. Maybe even both.
Aloha, tropics, even if it just comes through a scone. From Newfoundland, Canada.