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Blueberry honey buttermilk scones

Baking comes in many forms for different people. For some, it presents itself as a yearly birthday cake; dusting off flour from the back of the cupboard and grumbling about who hid the cake tins. For others it’s a job; weighing, precision and timely execution. For most, it is about impulse; an offer on luxury chocolate that suggests a weighty ganache to be slicked over a chocolate cake; a desire to recreate a bake nibbled at in a cafe; or even a glimpse of a magazine (this month’s Good Food for example) that winks a rainbow cake from its shining cover, suggestively saying “oooh, bake me”.

Ok, that last bit was weird.

But it’s true. Impulse is what drives me to bake 95% of the time (the other 5% for bake sales and occasions).Yet I’ve managed to go two weeks without blogging and despite an aching inside of me to post, no words, recipes or ideas have sprung forth from my fingertips. I’ve beendreaming up unrealistic plans of productivity but when the 6am alarm chimes a chance to catch the early blog post, I roll over and press snooze. Such is life.

I’m not a blogger who sticks to schedules. All the best ones do; they announce they are going on holiday and pre-live three posts and leave an automated comment-response message. They post regimentally on certain days of the week. They have moleskins filled with ideas and notes and tweaks. I have a big pad I rip shopping notes out of, attempt to remember recipes in my head and never ever post with any semblance of regularly. Does that make me a bad blogger?

These scones are a lesson in patience. Not that they took long to make or are particularly difficult, but that it has taken me the full week to blog them. And that is ok. I could have rushed; photographed fuzzy, distorted photos and bashed up a post about cleaning the bathroom and linking the bleach bottle in some banal way to the colour of blueberries. But I think its best we don’t talk about bleach scones. Euughhh.

No, my name is Victoria Sponge Pease Pudding and I am an impulse baker/blogger. These scones were a week long blogging project, but by Friday they are firmly in a corner of the internet that is all the better for imposing some restraint. Blogging lessons yo.

But scones. Fat and rotund. The kind of scones that need no real introduction or topping – just slice up and eat. Warm, the berries burst and add a jammy depth of texture that requires no other condiment. A sour tang from the buttermilk is given a honey smackdown of sweetness and a painted top with a crunch of sugar equals scone-on heaven. It’s time to restrain me now; I gotta bake another batch…

 

Adapted slightly from Joy the Baker

You Will Need

450g plain flour

¾ tsp salt

½ tsp bicarbonate of soda

2 ½ tsp baking powder

A pinch grated nutmeg

170g cold unsalted butter, cubed

1 egg

2 tbsp honey

180ml buttermilk, plus extra for brushing

150g fresh blueberries

1 tbsp light brown sugar to finish

Blueberry Honey Buttermilk Scone ingreidents

Preheat an oven to 200oc/180oc fan/Gas Mark 6. Line a baking sheet with baking parchment and set aside. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, bicarbonate of soda, baking powder and nutmeg. Rub in the butter, moving the fat between your fingertips with your thumbs. Repeat until the mix resembles breadcrumbs, with the butter roughly the size of peas.

diced butter

Lightly whisk together the egg, honey and buttermilk and add all at once to the dry mix. Stir through to form a soft, shaggy dough then fold through the blueberries. Tip onto a floured work surface and lightly knead to a smooth-ish dough. Take care not to crush the berries too much at this stage, as they will make the dough wetter.

brushed with buttermilk and topped with sugar

Roll out to a 1 inch thickness and cut out with 2 inch sized round cutters. Roll and repeat with scraps until you have 12-13 scones. Brush with buttermilk and top with a sprinkling of brown sugar then bake for 15-18 minutes until golden. Serve warm with blueberry jam, butter or nothing at all. Add a hefty black coffee for a sunshine spring breakfast.

single scone