Inedible Rock Scones

This really is as bad as it sounds. I thought I would be creative. Last night I Googled something along the lines of “the chemistry of biscuits” thinking that if I figured out the basic ratios I could just wing it and make an edible biscuit out of what we had in the cupboard (the main problem at the moment being that we don’t have any nice, soft, brown sugar).

I didn’t find what I was looking for in my Google search and was too tired to really understand what I did find. Today I thought “fuck it” and just threw some things in a bowl. I wrote down what I was doing in case my biscuits/cookies turned out to be so wonderful that I could share the recipe with other people.

They didn’t. They weren’t even edible. Instead of not wasting food by turning it into delicious cookies, I threw away perfectly good food in the form of inedible rock scones. I used: flour, oats, two eggs, honey, golden syrup, the remnants of the bag of raisins and apricots M halfheartedly ate before spitting apricot all around the room in a flap that it tasted funny, vanilla flavouring, and baking powder.

I mixed everything together and patted the dough into promising little balls that seemed the right consistency for something at least. I wasn’t going for gourmet. Just edible.

As I put them in the oven I had the horrible thought that I hadn’t added any oil – no butter, no nothing – to the mix. Oh well, they were on the baking tray now, and surely they would turn into something edible (I was going on the basis of one of A Girl Called Jack’s recipes – but then she did use oil).

M was excited when they emerged from the oven. He said “mmm… this is nice” as he ate it.

I tried mine. “It’s not nice though is it? It is quite horrible really” I said as I got the sickly taste of golden syrup and a slight burning that I assume was the baking powder, in the consistency of a scone-come-rock-cake.

“No, no it’s not really very nice” he conceded. “Maybe we can buy some chocolate and make some chocolate chip cookies?” he asked hopefully.

Yes. Maybe we can. And this time we will follow a recipe. Mary Berry I ain’t.


Sub-Par Cookies and a Bee in the Kitchen

Quite why there is a giant bee in my kitchen in the middle of January is beyond me, but there it is. My longsuffering darling husband is currently trying to remedy the situation (he is under instructions not to kill the bee but I distinctly heard “well what else am I supposed to do with it?” as I walked up the stairs, having shut him in the kitchen with the bee. I doubt he took my “catch it and put it out of the window” suggestion very kindly).

The bee tops off a rather irritating past two hours in which I have tried to do something nice for M, who is on his second cold since Christmas. I said I would make him hotdogs (yes, again, but he has hardly eaten all day and he will eat those) for dinner and homemade cookies for pudding.

The cookies were a failure. My husband said they were “fine” but I am irritated for several reasons. I wanted a quick and easy biscuit recipe but didn’t really find one.  UK biscuit mind you – not helpful when US biscuit recipes pop up – but then I do say “cookie” when English people are supposed to say biscuit. I still say “trash” because “rubbish” sounds silly, which irritates my bothers no end (“you are in England now,” they protest), but I digress. The recipes all seemed to be either in U.S. cups, or involved refrigerating, or too many steps on the recipe (recipes stress me out). So I made a simple shortbread recipe from my Homemade book instead.

Here’s where my OCD kicked in. Our electric beater (cheapest one from the supermarket) has a little spot of rust on it. I decided that this may pose a risk of tenanus and so have decided to throw the whole thing out (well, take it to the small goods recycling). This means I mixed the butter and sugar first with a fork, which didn’t work, then with a silicon whisk, which bent under the pressure, then (sod it) with my hands. I mixed the flour in with my hands too so the resulting dough was not particularly soft and the resulting cookies taste a bit floury. I also burnt my hand a bit getting the jam tarts (I pressed a bit of the dough into a small cupcake tin and filled with jam) out of the oven as we don’t currently have a proper oven glove.

I think I should invest in some proper baking tools before attempting cookies again. It’s annoying though because I had a proper electric stand beater (or whatever they are called) but it, along with 90% of our worldly goods (including all of the baby stuff) got left behind when we moved countries. First world problems I know, but I miss some of my stuff, especially the stuff I can’t justify buying right now (we are allegedly on a budget – I am forever instituting new budgets and then making a mockery of them by buying stuff we “need”).

So this post finds me attempting to keep a sense of perspective yet still rather annoyed by this latest proof that I am not a domestic goddess and feeling as though I have wasted a couple of hours (and then there is the washing up!) Ah well, M just said of the cookie-biscuits “mmm… They were nice.” Mission accomplished after all then. Or after a week or two of my attempting to institute a regime of “healthy” puddings he is just glad of the sugar. Either way, I’ll take it.