- Tuesday, January 15, 2008 -- 11pm
- Location: Indianapolis, IN
- Kitchen: My Apartment
- Dining Companion: Matty
- Recipe Rating: A-
This is another recipe off the list generated by the random number generator, and another one that I brought to Indianapolis to eat with Matty when he was in Indy for a night last week. That is where the similarities between this recipe and the Deviled Ham recipe end. You might think it odd that I wouldn't have made this recipe for scones until the random number generator forced me to. The various sections of baked goods in The Book are some of the sections where I have made the most progress. Yet I hadn't made these scones. The reason: I have eaten one too many dry, stale Starbucks scones in my life, and so I have it in my head that I don't like scones. The truth is that I don't like bad scones. But because of my anti-scone stance, this recipe hadn't been made. I'm happy that the random number gods forced it on me though because these scones were delicious! They suffered not-at-all from the dryness that usually drives a wedge in my relationship with scones. My other anti-scone campaign: Scones Are Boring, also wasn't relevant here. The oatmeal gave these scones more flavor than your typical scone, while also contributing a bit of chewiness and a heartiness unusual for this tea pastry. The finely chopped dried apricots were delightful. They gave the scones little bursts of flavor while the grated orange peel gave them a uniform citrus brightness. Add to that the tang of some buttermilk, and you have yourself a winning scone. I liked them very much. Matty did too. I usually turn the other way when I see a scone coming at me, and I very much enjoyed these. So if you campaign on the side of the scones, you are sure to love this recipe!
This recipe is almost identical except the one in The Book calls for finely chopped dried apricots instead of the currants.
Matty and I ate dinner from The Book tonight (as we do most every night when we are in the same place...) and after everything was assembled, served, and eaten, there were some potatoes left over. Just plain, peeled and boiled potatoes. So I threw in some butter, milk, and generous quantities of salt and pepper and I made myself some mashed potatoes. Then I carefully packaged them in a tupperware container. I took the labels out of the drawer (when you have an entire freezer jam-packed with leftovers from The Book, labels are a necessity) and carefully labeled my container of potatoes: "ALL FOR TEENA. NONE FOR MATT." Then I carefully put it in the fridge.
Normally I am better at sharing than this. In general Matty eats much more of the food that I cook than I do. But mashed potatoes? Mashed potatoes I cannot share. In a previous life -- one before this project and the constant presence of The Book in my daily cooking -- I ate mashed potatoes all the time. I ate them so much that I would perhaps even have shared them with someone I love. But now there is so much Book food in my life that I eat little else, and I find myself only eating mashed potatoes in restaurants (Or at the homeless shelter, back when I lived in Boston. There we made instant mashed potatoes. Not good. Yet I ate them. That's how much I miss mashed potatoes!) Mashed potatoes, in addition to being divinely delicious, remind me of some of the best things in life: family, friends, big holiday meals... Maybe I should try to make a little space in my cooking regime for some mashed potatoes now and then. All for me of course. None for Matt.