Scones: The United Nations Of Breakfast Pastry

Today is chocolate-chip scone-making weather.

This morning I woke to the sound of our next-door neighbor playing his saxophone. It was a little early for last night's late night, but he is very good, and it was like playing a Coltrane record, like a real record, not a remastered CD or some other stupid technological refinement that takes all of the soul from the sound.

Even the farmers think it is scone-making weather; there were no pickles or granola at the farmer's market this morning (wind chill temp: 3 degrees), and the cute British boy with the delicious beets was also MIA. So I went to new vendors, spreading my little cash around and letting everyone keep the change. It's the simple things.

Back to scones.

They couldn't be more simple. Some flour (my GF flour mix is perfection here), baking powder and soda, salt, sugar, butter. Then sour cream, egg, and whatever you like. Chocolate chips can be spiced up with finely chopped candied ginger. You could add lemon zest and a little more sugar and some finely chopped rosemary (go easy on the rosemary or it will taste like a lemon-flavored pine forest). Add prosciutto and cheese. Or bacon and maple syrup.

But scones warm the house and smell divine. Baking is chemistry, and not just in the laboratory sense. From time to time (like today) I wake The Child up with a warm scone and a cup of peanut butter hot chocolate. This does more than fill her belly; it eases my non-morning child into the day and smooths parent-child relations for the day.

Scones are the United Nations of breakfast pastry.

When it is cold, you need something that warms everything in your body, from your belly to your very being-ness.

Scones.