Picture
Today I met a really nice woman at Whole Foods. She’s going to make scones for her boyfriend for Valentine’s Day, but feels like she isn’t very good at baking so she had a mix to help her. I assured her that making scones from scratch was well within her capabilities and told her I’d send her the recipe, but she was nice enough to check out this (now largely defunct) blog and she said terribly complimentary things about it in an email to me, so I decided to really help her with the scone project and put up step-by-step instructions. 

Let’s talk a bit about baking mixes. I’m against them. I think in large part they’re a scam perpetrated against baking-shy or –phobic people who, for whatever reason, think they can’t bake or are bad at it or that it’s difficult or somehow beyond them. The thing is, most mixes contain little more than flour, leavening, sugar, salt, preservatives, and sometimes flavoring. If you’re going to the trouble of baking, mixing those things together (minus the preservatives, of course) is the easiest part! You’re going to have to get out the eggs, milk, oil or butter, and mix-ins anyway, so why not do a tiny bit more work and be able to say you made it from scratch? As far as I can tell, there’s no good reason not to. You’ll eat fewer preservatives, it’s significantly cheaper, and you can feel smug about baking from scratch. 

Scones are a great place to start if you’re new to baking. They’re easiest to make if you have a food processor, but you can also use a pastry knife. In theory you can use two knives like scissors in place of a pastry knife, but I’ve never had much success with that method and a really high-quality pastry knife costs, like, 12 bucks at Williams-Sonoma and it will last forever. To make scones, you don’t need to do any creaming or much blending – it’s largely just mixing the flour with the leavening, salt and sugar, cutting in the butter, then adding the mix-ins and the liquid and stirring until it looks like dough. There’s a bit of kneading at the end, but it’s not very challenging. Then you just pat the dough into a disk, cut into wedges, bake, and enjoy! Let’s get started. 

Picture
You will need:

2 cups all-purpose flour (10 ounces)
1 cup heavy cream or half-and-half
1 T baking powder
1 t kosher salt (or ½ t table salt)
3 T sugar
5 T cold butter
1 Meyer lemon
½ cup crystallized ginger


The first thing to do is to set up your mise en place. Make sure you have everything measured out, chopped, and ready to go. This way you won’t have to stop while you’re cooking to look for an ingredient, and you’ll be sure that you have everything you need to complete the recipe. Measure out your flour, baking powder, salt, sugar, and cream.
Picture
Finely dice the crystallized ginger. The easiest way to do this is to cut it into narrow strips, then turn all the strips 90 degrees and cut them again into dice. 

Picture
Zest the lemon with a Microplane grater or a lemon zester or other grater if you don’t have a Microplane. If you don’t have a Microplane, get one the next time you’re out shopping. Bed, Bath, and Beyond sells them for under $15 and you can use one of those coupons they’re always mailing you. My Microplane is absolutely invaluable in my kitchen. I use it for grating parmesan, ginger, zesting lemons, and a myriad of other tasks. 

Picture
Cut the butter into cubes by first cutting lengthwise down the stick, then cutting lengthwise again, then several times crosswise. 

Picture
Put the flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder into your food processor and pulse several times to mix it all up. 

Picture
Next, scatter the butter cubes over the flour mixture. Pulse it 12 times (or use a pastry knife), until it looks like this: 

Picture
Now dump the mixture into a bowl and add the ginger and the lemon zest. Use a spatula to mix the ginger and the lemon in. Don’t worry if the zest sticks to itself a bit – you should be able to mix it into the flour mixture easily. The flour will help it distribute evenly. 

Picture
When everything is mixed together, pour the cream into the bowl and mix it up. The motion you want to use is less of a stirring motion and more of a scraping or folding motion. Use the spatula to scrape the sides of the bowl and fold the flour that’s on the sides inward, turning the bowl as you go. If you keep at it, you’ll end up with dough that looks like this: 

Picture
Turn the dough out on a clean counter or butcher block or pirate map or whatever work surface you’ve got. Knead it a bit until it all sticks together and forms a ball. Pat the ball into a disk that’s slightly domed and about 6 or 7 inches in diameter. Cut into eight wedges (like a pizza) with a large knife. 

Picture
Now (or maybe 15 minutes ago) would be a good time to put an oven rack in the lower-middle position and heat the oven to 425 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or aluminum foil. Note: do not use waxed paper. The wax will melt into your scones and it will be terrible. Not that I’ve ever done that, or anything. 

Picture
Place the scones on the baking sheet, then bake for 15 minutes. I like to turn the baking sheet around halfway through so that the scones bake evenly, but it’s not the end of the world if you don’t. When they’re done, the scones will be baked all the way through, golden brown on top, and turning dark brown on the tips. 

Picture
Serve them warm with a thin slice of butter, a dollop of whipped cream, or a spoonful of lemon curd if you have some. I imagine they’d also be good with berry jam. 

Picture
(Seriously, this recipe is so easy a 2-year-old could do it.) 
Picture
 
 

I'm starting a new feature here at Emily's Hot Dish. Guest Chef Mondays: Wherein I Convince Other People To Do The Blogging For Me. Our inaugural guest chef is my dad, George. He stayed at home with my brother and I while my mom went to work, so I grew up leaning to cook from him. My earliest memory is sitting on the kitchen counter while he cooked dinner, watching as he added things to the pots on the stove. At the time it seemed like alchemy; he has the wonderful skill of being able to go into a fridge that others find nothing worth eating in and 30 minutes later there's a delicious meal on the table. Chickpeas and blueberries in a salad? Oddly delicious. 


He writes: 


OMG!  TBO!  . . . NSM.

I was reading through the March issue of Esquire a couple of weeks back when I turned to page 106 and actually said to myself, “Oh Em Gee, Tee Bee Oh.”  There was a picture of a stack of Banana Bread French Toast. My mother, Emily’s grandmother, the home-ec teacher, mom of the 50s and no-nonsense Midwestern cook had a failsafe recipe for banana bread that she passed to me.  If you’ve got buttermilk and at least three old bananas, you’re in pig heaven.  She said it was really banana cake but if you called it banana bread you could eat more of it.  Practical, my mother.  So, I like banana bread. 

And I like French toast.  All the better since A) we came across the Cooks’ Illustrated version of French toast dip with milk, sugar, and egg, of course, but also melted butter, flour, and vanilla, and B) we decided to (actually, Emily suggested that we) make it with Italian panettone instead of bread.  This is not difficult living in Italy, as we do, and makes really amazing French toast. 

But not like in the Esquire picture.  I mean, French toast made of banana bread?  With syrup and lemon-flavored sour cream on top?  It just screams “TBO”. 

When we lived in Germany our family friend Trudy was visiting us.  A day with her was like three with a mere mortal.  She made things funnier, events more significant, and life more special.  We were cooking, talking, and recording a tape to her brother who was out at sea and we got to the chocolate soufflé portion of the evening.  It came out rather well and upon the first mouthful Trudy exclaimed, “Oh. My. God.  Major TBO.” 

An Army major?  Time Between Overhauls?  I must have looked puzzled as she translated:  “TBO? -- Taste Bud Orgasm.”

Ahhhhh, it made perfect sense.  The soufflé met the description so much so that we decided we should really make another just to prove the first wasn’t a mistake.  And the term entered our family’s lexicon. 

And seemed to fit the concept of Banana Bread French Toast.  I mean, what’s not to like?   Bananas, walnuts, butter and sugar, then everything French-toasty, then syrup and then sour cream whipped with lemon zest. .  .  the sum just had to be better than the parts, and all of the parts were really good to start. 

Plus, it was an Esquire recipe. Esquire is a men’s magazine but not a “cheesecake mag.”  It has more pictures of male Italian models wearing $3000 suits without socks than any undressed women.  But it does do one thing well every so often: recipes that appeal to guys. 

Which is why I thought I’d give the Banana Bread French Toast a try.  So we did.  Karine and Stuart, our upstairs neighbors, were having Eva and Jose over and Stuart’s sister was visiting so we thought it was a perfect opportunity to test-drive a new recipe.  They are friends that deserve something really special but will laugh and forgive you if it’s a spectacular failure.

And it was good.  Really good.  But not great.  Banana-y, walnutty, French toasty, sour creamy?  Yup, all those things.  Did the masses clamor for more?  You bet they did, and demanded the recipe, too. 

But OMG, TBO?  Not So Much. 

A lot of flavor there, but somehow it didn’t all come together.  It didn’t seem as if we’d done it wrong, it just seemed like there were a lot of separate flavors on the plate.  Good.  OK, very good.  But not great. 

Maybe we just expected too much. 

Give it a try and see what you think. 

 Helen’s Banana Bread
½ Cup butter
1 Cup sugar
2 well beaten eggs
3 mashed bananas
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ Cup buttermilk
2 Cups sifted flour
½ Cup chopped pecans or walnuts(or not)

**********************************************

Cream together butter and sugar.  Add eggs and bananas and blend. 

Add and blend the buttermilk

Sift together flour and soda

Add banana cream and blend.

Pour into floured loaf pan.

350 degrees Fahrenheit for 1 hour. 

The top should be brown and cracking, the sides should be just starting to pull away.  Test center with spaghetti at 50 minutes.  It should come out bone dry when done. 

French Toast Batter
1 egg
2 TSP melted butter
¾ Cup milk
1 TBS Vanilla Extract
2 TBS Sugar
1/3 Cup flour
Pinch salt

*****************************************

Beat egg.  Whisk in butter, milk, vanilla, sugar, flour, and salt.

Do not refrigerate, trust me on this.  The butter solidifies, separates out, clumps up, and ruins your morning.  

Just heat your pan (cast iron or pancake griddle), butter it, turn to medium heat, and fry your toast.  First, of course, soak your bread for a couple of seconds.  The original recipe suggests you soak it for 30 seconds or more.  That assumes you are using a yeast bread that has some tensile strength.  Banana bread, however, is a heavy cake that when wet, tends to fall apart easily.  Dip it with your whole hand and remove it using your spread fingers to support the entire slice.  Once it’s on the griddle, you’re OK. 

The Esquire Suggestion

Before frying the toast, whip some sour cream with the zest of a lemon or two.  Esquire claims that artificial (Mrs. Butterworth’s) syrup is better in that it is thicker on the toast and plate.  Real syrup is thinner and soaks in.  This is, of course, heresy, foolish, and totally wrong.  And with all these flavors on the plate maybe it’s just possible that you couldn’t tell the difference, but why take the chance? 

Toast on the warm plate, a dollop of lemony sour cream, and syrup over everything. 

If you’re serving it to guests, pretend you do this all the time. 

If you're interested in Guest Cheffing, leave a comment or shoot me an email. All are welcome.