How Not to Bake Scones

There are some things one should never do. Things like buying an elephant off Craigslist, or shellacking yourself to a flight of stairs (if it's not Art), or yelling in a cathedral. No matter what, these are bad ideas. But they pall in comparison to the decision to create a recipe for tea cakes with no guidance, no decency, and no respect for chemistry. That is just perverse.

But I did it anyway. I shouldn't have.

Perhaps I would have been wiser if I had gotten more sleep. I forgot my homework until practically midnight last night, and while I was frantically trying to finish in time to wake up in the morning, my mind wandered and decided it wanted a nice Dutch oven so that it might make a loaf of No-Knead Bread, something that sounds so enticing that...well, I spent an hour on Amazon, and while now I know a lot more about cast iron pots, my homework did not miraculously finish itself. So it was one in the morning before I went to sleep. I woke at seven, started finishing that wretched assignment at 7:30, finished it at 9:39 and bolted out the door at 10:08, frantic not to miss my bus and mildly upset that I couldn't find my portable tea mug anywhere. While I was on the bus, I did my Latin homework, which I'd also neglected and which was hard - we're reading Ovid's Amores, and my professor wants us to compose sentences in Latin, which is not the end of the world, just the end of Kate. Dictionariless, bereft of a verb book, I languished in guilt and self loathing, knowing I wouldn't be able to finish the assignment. I more or less did, but. Well. It wasn't great. By one in the afternoon, I had crashed completely. No caffeine and three hours of frenetic work that morning had left me utterly spent, and I taught someone how to knit in a sort of stupor. In Phonology I thought about food and baking and what I wanted from the grocery and paid little attention to the muscles and bones of the jaw. When I finally got out at 3, I was much too tired to consider going to the store, and could think only of what I would bake for myself after that long ride home.

I settled on scones. Healthy ones. With oats and whole wheat flour and no oil in them (this was what killed them, I think. Or at least, part of it). I didn't think I could afford to add an egg, and so I decided against that. When I walked in the door, I called my dear sweet boyfriend to come for tea, and then got everything together, threw it in a bowl, stirred, and called it good. Baked the grotesque little brown lumps. And out came...a gummy, pasty, flour-flavored mass of chagrin, which I humbly disdained and deigned unfit for human consumption. Besides, I hadn't had nearly enough tea for that kind of behavior in my baking. So I sat, staring woefully at my mistake, while Ian sitting next to me, all comfort, and I was too tired to even feel sad.

This is not quite as bad as the time a few weeks ago when I was having an annoying day and decided to make cookies. As usual, I chose not to use a recipe (did I mention that I don't take directions well? I don't take directions well). I mixed up a lovely bowl of whole wheat flour, egg, butter, sugar, baking soda, salt, and chocolate, and carefully dolloped it on a tray, and baked up the most horrific batch of non-cookies that have ever graced the known universe with their evilness. What had tasted like a slightly odd dough was transformed into a gelatinous mass of pudding-like brown glop which, instead of being sweet or even just a little odd, was reminiscent of the sharp, irony taste of blood, though rather less pleasant.

I think the reason I randomly experiment with baking so often and so readily is because a lot of the things I bake on a regular basis are recipe-free guesswork. My pancakes are quite delicious, and I do have a scone recipe which is delectable, and both of these I came up with without the aid of a recipe and with no guidance whatsoever. I've also made vegan banana pancakes with a peanut butter frosting, and chocolate cookies, and cakes, without help, though I can't remember what I did. So it seems reasonable that I should think myself capable of making decent baked goods, rather than completely indecent baked bads.

But this does prove one thing: if you're going to bake on minimal sleep, use a recipe. And if you don't feel that recipes are your style, have some idea of how to put together whatever you want to eat - know the basics of the class. When you have the basics, then you can experiment. But the basics are usually rigid. Don't mess around with the rules.

Kate