I am not a morning person. I thought that perhaps having two small children that wake with the sun would cure me of this, but no. I am still not a morning person. There are few things in this world that will rouse me from the warm, cozy cocoon of my bed covers in a cheerful mood - these scones are on that short list. These are scones that I've been making since . . . well, since forever. I used to bake scones instead of studying for finals in college, and Ina Garten's The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook was my textbook of choice. Ina, in her hostess-with-the-mostest way, opened my eyes to a world of butter and flour that held my interest in a way that Economics never could. Fast forward more years than I care to admit, and I'm faced with a preschool bake sale. I'm tired. I'm always tired now (because I love to sleep and will never properly sleep in again). I reach really far back through the fuzzy cobwebs in my brain to the recipes I can reliably make even in a semi-conscious state, and I find these scones archived somewhere between "Econ 101" and "Accounting 101". I may not remember much about Econ anymore, but my hands still remember precisely how to shape and form these tender, buttery scones. Within the hour, the scent of butter and flour filled my nostrils with their heady scent - a smell worth waking up for. I can't ever decide if I want a sweet or savory scone, so of course there is one of each. These are tried and true and flew off the bake sale table in the blink of an eye.
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