A Story About Scones [and a recipe for Chocolate Peppermint Scones]
It’s 11am on Friday morning, and our mastermind group has already exchanged several Voxer messages. Most days, Sonya, the East Coaster, starts us off with a “Good morning, how is everyone?” message, often peppered with commentary about the car in front of her or how people can’t park. Her day is in full swing, and when I see the notification on my phone that I have a message, I can hardly wait to hear what’s going to be said. Also, I’ve never found someone’s verbal road rage so endearing.
I’m in the Central Time Zone, so sometimes I’m next up, although Ashlee and Katie, the West Coasters, are more disciplined than me about waking up early. They often beat me to replying, but I catch up eventually. I have serious FOMO if I miss a message. For the rest of the day, we leave each other Voxes about everything from book marketing to health updates to marriage and kids to what we ate for breakfast. These messages are among the most meandering, delightful, sometimes hard but always grace-filled, conversations I’ve had in my life.
Today, Katie fills us in on the hustle and bustle of her morning–and with six kids, you can imagine how full each day is for her. And then she tells us about her stop at the bakery, and the scone. The chocolate peppermint scone that pairs perfectly with a hot cup of coffee. “It’s so good, and I am so happy about this decision,” she says. “And I just really need someone to know it. That’s it. That’s all. Happy Friday everybody! I love you. Bye!”
The conversation continues, and I finally get around to leaving my message. “Okay, Katie. I need to know more about this scone…” I continue to ask questions. “Dark chocolate or white chocolate? Peppermint in the dough or just on top? Chocolate in the dough or just chocolate chips?”
She doesn’t make fun of my odd questions. She doesn’t think I’m weird (or at least doesn’t tell me as much) because I’m now spending every free minute googling chocolate peppermint scone recipes. The group doesn’t seem annoyed that I’m returning to conversation topics we’d long since moved on from. Instead, Katie sends a picture of her pastry and leaves a message with every decadent detail she can recall.
More conversation ensues about book writing and work and life. I give occasional updates on how my recipe development is going. Sonya agrees with me not to use peppermint extract but just have the flavor come right from the candy. Ashlee cheers on my baking endeavors, promising to make the scones as soon as the recipe is up. All three of them offer thoughts, encouragement, and advice when I ask for it.
It sounds so silly, doesn’t it? A conversation about scones? It seems like a trivial topic in light of all the heaviness in the world and in our own lives. And believe me, we know there’s plenty of heaviness. But there’s something beautiful about conversation being able to run free. It’s like we’re roaming through the woods, knowing we’ll arrive somewhere eventually, but there’s no rush. Our conversations aren’t just about getting to a destination–we make every stop necessary along the way to speak encouragement, to clarify what someone said, sometimes to apologize, other times to smell the proverbial roses. We backtrack when needed and veer left in conversation when life calls for it. We borrow inspiration and creativity from another and admire what each of us will do with it.
And sometimes, in the middle of it all, we pause long enough to make scones.
Chocolate Peppermint Scones
Adapted from King Arthur Baking
Scones
1 ⅔ cups all-purpose flour
⅓ cup Dutch-process cocoa
½ cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon espresso powder
½ teaspoon kosher salt
8 tablespoons cold, unsalted butter
1 egg
½ cup cold buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup chopped dark chocolate or chocolate chips
¼ cup coarsely crushed peppermint candy*
Topping
1 cup chopped dark chocolate
4-6 Tablespoons unsalted butter
Crushed peppermint candy
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.
In a large bowl, mix together the flour, cocoa, granulated sugar, baking powder, baking soda, espresso powder, and salt.
Use a box grater to grate the cold butter and add it to the dry ingredients. Use a pastry cutter or your fingers to incorporate the butter until you have somewhat of a crumbly texture. (If you don’t have a box grater, just cut the butter into small pieces and then mix it in.)
In a small bowl, whisk together the egg, buttermilk, and vanilla. Pour the egg mixture over the flour mixture and stir gently until a sticky dough forms. Fold in the chocolate and peppermint. If the dough seems too sticky, add a tiny bit more flour and if it’s too dry, add a touch more buttermilk. Stir as gently as possibly and don’t mix any more than necessary.
Scrape the dough out onto a floured work surface. Add some flour to your hands and form the dough into a circle, about one inch thick. Cut the dough into 8 triangle shaped slices and transfer to the lined baking sheet (make sure you leave at least a couple inches between each scone so they don’t get smushed together when they bake).
Put the baking sheet in the refrigerator for at least 15 minutes.
Bake for about 17-20 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean (except for any smears of melted chocolate). Allow the scones to cool on a wire rack and then add the topping (instructions below).
For the topping
Combine the chocolate and four tablespoons of the butter in the top of a double boiler. Heat over simmering water, stirring frequently, until the chocolate is melted and the ingredients are thoroughly mixed together. Add another tablespoon or two of butter if you want a thinner topping.
Remove the chocolate from the heat and drizzle on the baked scones. Sprinkle on some crushed peppermint candy. The topping will harden up a bit when it’s totally cooled.
*NOTE: To crush, I put unwrapped candy canes in a bag, and then hit the bag a few times with a meat mallet. It’s also a great way to work out any pent up frustration.
