So, Internet. What’s up? How have you been? Good, let’s talk about me now.
(skip straight to recipe here)
I have been dating. Basically, Internet, I have been using you as a method to try and get my freak on. And by freak, I mean maybe actually letting someone kiss my face on the mouth at the end of a pleasant evening.
This has been harder than you would think.
There are a whole lot of people, objectively attractive people, that I want nowhere near my mouth area.
It’s ok to feel sad for me. Don’t dwell though. Are you dwelling? Really, don’t bother. I’ve got that covered for both of us.
Without going into detail, I have met some very, very nice men that I have no intention of ever seeing again. Except for one. We’re going to be friends. We just went to the Mars Cheese Castle. Please enjoy this photo of me macking on a suit of armor.
Mainly, I have drunk more beer than is good for me, had some good/awkward/stilted/interesting conversations, and learned the following things:
1. No one looks like their profile pic. No one. Sometimes this is good. Sometimes this is bad. It’s unfortunate that it’s not possible to do away with them, but my next internet dating self-portrait may be me holding up a sign that reads, “Please realize I don’t actually look like this.”
2. No one is as cool as they appear on the first date. Date number two is the real eye-opener, so go ahead and go on the first one, but keep those hopes (and possibly standards) low. Real, real low. p.s. I realize that “real” is an adjective and not an adverb, but I just think it’s cute phrasing I picked it up from a friend leave me alone. p.p.s. – this standard applies to me too. I am absolutely going to keep my issues to myself on the first date. Did you know that I let my dogs on the couch and in my bed? And there are dust bunnies under my furniture and in hard-to-sweep corners. I am completely ok with that, but I’m not going to tell you on the first date. Except that I just told you. Good thing we’re not dating, Internet, because I would have totally blown it right there.
3. Keep an open mind. Invariably, the dates that I’m very excited about go terribly, and the dates that I am going on “just to see” turn out pretty well.
4. Not everyone is going to like you. Or your life plans. Or your animals. Or your age/height/weight. Or anything at all about you, even though they implied that they thought you were cool online. This is also ok. Because we deserve someone who loves us for who we are, internet. Don’t go a-settling. For you this seems to be less of a problem, considering how popular you are. And widely appealing – you run the gamut from explanations of the theory of relativity to cat pictures with the nonexistent word “haz” in them. You probably don’t sit alone in your apartment wondering “why am I too _______ for my own good?” Fill in the blank with weird, intense, nerdy, silly, self-critical. Based on your content, Internet, self-criticism isn’t one of your hang-ups. Oh, how I envy you to the point of kind of wanting to hurl messy foodstuffs at your face and then laugh at your expression of oh-my-I-am-currently-sporting-messy-foodstuffs-as-a-facial accessory because who’s too weird now, Internet?? Oh, it’s still me.
5. As one of my friends pointed out, “You’re going to have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince.” So far, only four frogs have been up to the challenge, and I only kissed one of them. He did not turn into a prince. He’s still just a plain ol’ garden variety nice man I don’t really have an intention of seeing again. So,Internet. I’ve rested a few days. I’m ready. Bring on the frogs.
If we extrapolate long-term conclusions from current statistics, the only thing internet dating might gain me is a lil’ beer belly and a cheese food baby, but hey, since that business is already happening, let’s makes some scones to add just that much more insulation. I’ll need it – summer is just around the corner. Um….
By the way, these scones are THE scones. They are the best I have ever made and chefs/customers ask me for my scone recipe all the time so please if you like scones do try them because they are indeed “boss”.
Cinnamon Chip Scones
makes 8 mini scones
Did you know that cinnamon chips have corn syrup and stabilizers in them? Yah. So make your own.
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon of cinnamon
pinch of salt
1/4 cup white sugar
Combine butter, cinnamon, and pinch of salt in a bowl and set aside. No need to stir. Heat the sugar in a shallow pan, whisking constantly, until it starts cohere. Once the sugar is all liquid and starting to turn amber, turn off the heat and whisk in the butter, cinnamon and salt. Will form naturally into chips.
4 tablespoons butter, cold, cut into chunks
1 1/2 cups flour
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 tsp baking powder
pinch of salt
1/2 cup “stuff” (in this case cinnamon chips but cranberries is another favorite of mine
3 oz heavy cream (half and half would work too), plus more for brushing
cinnamon sugar (optional)
Preheat oven to 375.
Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in large bowl. Cut in butter chunks with pastry cutter, two knives or fingers until the mixture resembles coarse sand with some large pea-size chunks of butter still visible. Like this:
Then gently stir in the cinnamon chips.
Add the cream and knead, turning the dough gently onto itself until it just comes together. This is the most important stage and will greatly affect the texture of your scones, so you really can’t be too gentle here. When it is a mostly cohesive mass (but still a bit crumbly), dump the whole thing onto the counter and shape into a rectangle of 1″ thickness with your hands. Ok, dead horse alert, be gentle.
Cut triangles with a bench scraper if you have one, with a butter knife if you don’t.
Place on parchment lined baking sheet. Brush with extra cream. Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar. Bake for @18-22 minutes. Really, you’re looking for the tops to crack just a little to show they’re cooked through.
I was going to set up a shot of one scone on a plate with some coffee, and maybe a newspaper for a prop, but they just didn’t last that long. Scarfed. *hangs head in shame* Instead, please enjoy this photo of me hugging a fake cow.