My Scones Are Like Lead

You know how at various time in your life there are symbols which take on larger than life status? When I was newly divorced it was my dog door. To dispel the gray ghost (of husband and gray décor) I began a remodel of my house. I removed thousands of square feet of wallpaper myself with a steamer only to find that the original owners had never bothered to texture the walls. She had always intended for there to be wallpaper and apparently had never felt the need. So wallpaper removal was followed by faux finishing to disguise this lack of plaster.

I also removed a George Jetson style bar and had maple floors put in and was left with the perfect spot for a dog door for my two black labs. The last tenant had made a truly ugly fiberboard piece with a dog door at the bottom that fit into the sliding patio door blocking the view. After working so hard to make a lovely place to live it became that much more offensive especially knowing that the maker was someone who had chosen to side in a divorce where almost no one else had. I contacted another friend who agreed to put in my dog door and again fate intervened and he found some reason to delay and never followed through so again I was left with my fiberboard eyesore. It was a symbol to me. When my dog door was installed in the corner, I would have control of my own life again. Eventually I had a dog door, but it too had challenges, the hole was cut the wrong size and the siding didn’t match but by then I considered it such a victory these weren’t deterrents.

Well right now I face a scone challenge. Where I used to live I ate a perfectly baked plain scone every day for breakfast with fresh squeezed pineapple orange juice. All I had to do was buy them at the grocery store, although the juice was so popular that they ran out every day. I had the store on speed dial and was known to call ahead and have them put mine away so I could pick it up after work. Coworkers gave me grocery cards for my birthday because they knew how much I loved my morning juice with my scones. The health food store also made a raspberry scone that was actually almost as good, but these plain scones were just perfect. Now, the city where I live is a muffin city. Everywhere, banana chocolate chip muffins, and I mean everywhere! The specialty bakeries all have them, the grocery stores, the health food stores, banana chocolate chip muffins is all I see.

So I have taken to trying to perfect the scones on my own. Now I’m an excellent chef, but not much of a baker. But I do read everything so I understand that the butter or fat must be really cold and the dough should be handled as little as possible. But all I’ve been producing is nice looking round lumps of chewy lead dough that have no resemblance beyond looks to my morning scones of the south. I even wrote to the store asking for their recipe and although they politely declined to send the original, a recipe was sent which I have to think was close. The scones are my symbol for my life now. Since I’ve moved just when I think I’ve got it together again it slips away. So I’ve got to believe, when I have perfected the scone, I once again will have control of my life in this new place.