To Scone or Not to Scone

This is the first time I’ve managed to start writing an SOL post since school began. Where did all those good intentions go? Clearly they are not paving the path that I’m on, as the bumps and ruts remain numerous, requiring focus, swerves, and detours as I move along my way. Not to mention time to pull over and rest my eyes!

Last Friday we had our first Lattes and Lit meeting, which is our monthly before-school staff book buzz group. We come and share what we’ve been reading, swap books, and basically wallow in book talk and book love. It’s delightful! We started this a little over a year ago and it’s quickly become one of my favorite things. Usually I try to bake something to share and add to the festivities.

Last Thursday night though, I was in bed by 7 pm and asleep by 7:30. I hadn’t packed my lunch (always a night before in my life!) and I had even forgotten to put in my retainer. Exhausted doesn’t begin to describe it. Needless to say, I hadn’t baked anything. When I woke up around 4:15, I felt so much better. I knew I was already behind though–Friday’s planning had some large potholes in it, the group meets in my room at 8:00 which means my morning work time was truncated and I still had emails to respond to, lunch to pack and lots of other odds and ends to tend to. I got up and started the day.

At about 5:30 I came up for air. A sudden thought intruded. You know I could probably still make a batch of scones if I got moving. My mind hurried through the steps and the time involved. If I got the scones in the oven by 6, they’d be out by 6:15 or so and I could still head to work at 6:30. I debated with myself for a few moments. Did I want to rush? Did I want to make a mess and clean up? Did I really have the time?

Within moments, I had made my decision. I turned on the oven, grabbed flour, sugar, salt, butter, and baking soda and a mixture of baking cups. I dug out the chocolate chips, the dried cherries and the turbinado sugar. I lost myself in a whirl of measuring, chopping, mixing, etc. I was in baking flow, and it felt so good! Within 20 minutes or so, my scones were in the oven, the smell of baking was in the air, and I was smiling.

Hmmmm….could I make another batch? I mean people like having choices… I calculated. If I left home at 6:45, I’d still be at school by 7:15 which would give me a solid 45 minutes to get ready. I ran through the day in my head. Could I do it? Throwing caution to the wind, I optimistically decided I could. I mean, everything was already out! So, I zested some lemons, chopped some ginger and the next batch was soon ready to go.

As I baked, I realized how good it felt to be doing so. I absolutely love to bake, and don’t do so much these days as I simply don’t want to eat it all. For me, baking is both relaxing and fulfilling. It calms and centers me, and I also love to share what I’ve baked. It’s a win-win for sure! Making scones was definitely the right choice last Friday!

side note: When I searched my blog t to see if I’d already written about Lattes and Lit, I found a post entitled Baking. Clearly I have linked the two in my mind. As I reread it, I discovered that I was once again realizing something I’d already realized before, but somehow managed to forget. This time around there was a bit more rush around the edges, but still, the basic tenet was true: Baking comforts and connects me. It’s also a lot of fun.

In my decision to cut back the calories, I’ve also cut back on a source of joy. I think I need to reconsider this one.

SOLC Day 13: Baking

March 2026 SOLC–Day 13
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

Outside, the day is drawing to a close, shadows deepening, and the sun sinking slowly behind the trees. Inside, I pull the ingredients from the fridge and cupboard, and set them on the kitchen island. Butter, sugar, salt, flour, cinnamon, baking soda, baking powder, eggs, sour cream, chocolate. I set the oven to preheat and prepare a pan. Pulling the measuring spoons and cups from the drawer, I feel the day settle. The ever-present worries and stresses fade into the background.

Baking comforts me and connects me.

When I bake, I remember my mom and grandmother. I remember lavish baking sessions with childhood friends. I remember the bright sprinkle and sugar crystal abundance of holiday baking with my children. I think back to those years of early baking hours when I baked from home for a restaurant, and I remember the way-too-early-to-be-up pitter patter of little feet and my middle child, all sleepy-eyed and tousle-haired, joining me in the kitchen. I smile now, misty-eyed, remembering how she would climb on the step stool my husband made for her and contentedly watch me work. All these memories and more swirl about me.

I dump butter and sugar into the bowl of the mixer and turn it on. Its motor starts with a satisfying whirr. I watch the blade rotate and the two ingredients cream into a homogeneous mixture. I add the egg yolks and vanilla, and the batter turns to a deep yellow, testament to the gift of “home-grown” eggs from a friend.

I whisk dry ingredients together, sifting the clumps from the baking soda. Then I alternatively mix that and heaping spoonfuls of sour cream into the mixture. Next, I whip the egg whites to stiff peaks, small mountains of foam, and then fold them gently into the batter. I layer half the batter in the prepared pan then top it with clouds of cinnamon sugar and generous handfuls of chocolate chips. I repeat the process, then place the pan in the oven. After setting the timer, I clean up. There’s satisfaction here as well. Simple steps to create order from chaos.

Soon the air is rich with the scent of chocolate and cinnamon. My mind still lingers with memories.

Tonight, making this new-to-me coffee cake grounds me. When I bake I feel competent and capable. Even when working with a new recipe, I know I can bake. I have decades of experience. I speak the language, and my hands know what to do, moving smoothly and deftly. There is little ambiguity to baking, not too much decision making, but still, there’s room for improvisation. I know there’s science behind it all. I could research and learn about that, and I’d probably be a better baker for it. But I prefer to let the sheen of magic linger.

Tomorrow, I’ll bring this cake to school to share with colleagues at our Lattes and Lit group. We meet monthly to essentially buzz about books. There’s no required reading or assigned book. We just share what we’ve been enjoying, often bringing the books with us to loan out. I usually bring something I’ve baked, too. Making it is a gift to myself and sharing it is a gift to them.

Baking comforts me and connects me.