Friday, April 13


i am forever questing after the perfect scone.
that's no joke.
and every time i make a batch,
i'm trying to do it just a bit differently,
with the memory of past scones as fresh in my mind as can be,
so that this batch will be even closer to the scone zenith than the last.
that's an awful lot of remembering, neighbors,
and a whole helluva lot of tinkering;
but, i mean, then again-
too much is the right amount.
and MORE involved processes should only improve my aged brain,
and my young scones, right?
heck yes!
so, here we are- in the SCONE ZONE.
check the blue-blurry-type teleport:

s'crusty, s'crispy, s'good!!
i did it differently, but it so happens i also did it correctly,
and these jauns have spirit, man.
look at how craggy and crusty they are!
...and the insides are soft.
that's expert.
it was a freeform sort of morning, and it worked out better than i'd hoped it would.
here's how it went down, dudes:
preheat the oven to 420℉
in a medium mixing bowl, add all together:
2 cups flour;
1/4 cup tapioca;
1/2 cup weird reduced fat coconut flakes;
1/2 tsp salt;
2 tsp bakey pow;
1 tsp bakey soda;
5 T vegan butter;
4 T vegan creamchee-
cut all that up into itty-bits, so the fats are indistinguishable,
and then stir in:
3 T vegan sour cream;
2/3 cup non-dairy milk;
2/3 cup wild mini maine bloobs;
1 1/2 tsp vanilla-
have you ever sconed before?
man, relax-
it's easy.
y'just press, and fold, and turn the dough.
to clarify, that's a smoosh, a bendover, and a 90° rotation,
repeated over and over and over,
until the dough is totally unified and firm.
once i had that ready,
i made a 1" high rectangle,
divided it in half once lengthwise,
and cut eight side-triangles out of each long strip.
that's sweet sixteen right-angled spearheads,
pressed down just a bit (they rise up and will fall over if they aren't lowered to begin with)
and arranged in evenly-spaced rows-
they get baked for twenty minutes,
and they come out piping hot and ready to GO.
that's the sexxxiness for breakfast, buddy.
they didn't even need icing or sugar on top or anything-
straight-up powerbombs prepared tyo prepare you for a big day, any day, all day, always.
my voice is a raspy tom waits with emphysema sounding growl,
but it's audible at least.
i'll take it for now,
but as soon as it's all-the-way-back,
you'd best believe there's gonna be the loudest loudness that ever louded
being lauded and launched like a loudspeaker of pumped-up volume
all the way to eleven, so hard and so much that we'll all be surprised
if i don't lose my voice all over again.
will it be worth it?
don't be dumb, friends-
i'm sayin',
is there ever really any such thing as enough?
not in warrior poetry, with or without perpetual motion.
that's the truth.
i'm talking, and coughing, and raspiily rasping, and gasping for air in between-
it's ALL  really happening, and that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

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