THE STONE OF SCONE OF DESTINY (MOUSE EDITION).

So, as promised: scones.*

Scones are dead simple and tasty quick breads that, like most things I love, come from Scotland (see also: Robert Burns, bagpipes, Loch Ness monsters, men in kilts, scotch, etc.). Scones are also a key component of cream (or Devonshire) teas, where they are served with jam or clotted cream and oh my goodness PEOPLE IT’S REALLY TASTY.

They are such a quick bread, in fact, that an old Scottish saying suggests you can start a batch when you see unexpected guests at your gate and they will be done by the time said guests make it to your door. I will be honest: I’ve never produced scones that quickly (unless we’re talking about a very long sidewalk or very arthritic guests), but you can certainly get one of the simpler recipes from start to mouth in about 20 minutes. This is especially nice when it’s 10:30pm and you really want a cookie, but you aren’t patient enough to wait for your Husband to go make you some, so you just whip up a bannock of scones and all is right with the world.

All right, so this is a scone (a figgy chocolate balsamic scone, to be precise).

yummers. (photo courtesy of The Husband)

And this is the Stone of Scone.

yummers?

The Stone of Scone, also known as the Stone of Destiny, is a slab of red sandstone upon which the ancient kings of Scotland were crowned. Or at least they were until 1296, when Edward I (henceforth known as Edward the pommy bastard) invaded Scotland, took the Scone…err, Stone, and scarpered back to England where he immediately had the Stone installed as the seat in a fancy new coronation chair just so he could wave his arse (a bit more literally) in the general direction of the Scottish people. Since then, all English (and, after the Act of Union in 1707, all British) monarchs have been enthroned on the Stone. As part of a goodwill gesture, Elizabeth II had the Stone returned to Scotland in 1996; it now resides in Edinburgh Castle, though it must be returned to London for all future coronations.

Now, you may be wondering just what was the point of this little history lesson? Well, the Stone of Scone and proper scones are similar in some respects (in that they both come from Scotland and have been co-opted by the English and have the word “scone” in there somewhere), and I wanted to prevent any confusion right from the start. Besides, if you ever try to crown a monarch on a regular scone, you’ll just end up with a case of the royal crumb bum, and no one wants that (also, trying to eat the Stone of Scone will probably result in broken teeth and/or a night in a Scottish gaol).

All right, but what do mice have to do with scones?

OK, have you ever read any of the Redwall series, by Brian Jacques? If you haven’t, you should. Wait – actually, you should first pretend to be 11-year-old me (or, let’s be honest, 27-year-old me) and THEN read them, because I make no pretensions about any of these books qualifying as great literature, but they are well-written and a rollicking good time and there is NOTHING wrong with a grown woman strolling into the children’s section of the library and borrowing five or six of the books (so don’t judge me).

If I were to take off my Lackadaisical Blog hat and put on my Serious Literature hat, I could argue that these books offer a fascinating insight into a world of moral absolutes and rigid social structure, which can also be read as a trenchant commentary on the traditional British class system, but really: they’re books about mice that fight against rats. After the first few, the plot ceases to be exciting (SPOILER ALERT: good always wins), but the plots aren’t the point – it’s the way the stories are told that makes these books. Jacques is a master craftsman when it comes to building up a setting and characters, and even if it’s the same story over and over, it never ceases to be fun.

Of course, anyone who’s read the books knows that the feasts are legendary. Pages will be dedicated to describing all the varieties of food (who knew that woodland creatures were such good cooks?), and that is where I first discovered the mysterious wonder called scones. I actually purchased The Redwall Cookbook (STOP JUDGING ME) solely for the scone recipe, but was pleasantly surprised by the other recipes as well, for things like trifles and crisps and fools and tea breads and cakes and puddings and cobblers and shortbread and assortlekajoeia;fjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj…

Sorry. I drooled into my keyboard a bit there.

Anyway, just read the books because they are awesome. And if you happen to be nibbling on a fresh-baked scone and drinking some hot tea while you’re reading – well, I can think of few better ways of spending your time.

RECIPES
I have two recipes I tend to use: one for sweet cream scones (to be eaten plain), and the Redwall recipe, which is best with some jam or cream. The cream scone recipe can be found here; I usually mix it up by adding chocolate chips, any number of dried fruits, lemon zest, etc. The Redwall version is as follows:

1 3/4 c. all-purpose flour
2 tsp. baking powder
heaped 1/4 tsps. of ground cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg
1/2 tsp. salt
2 tbsp. unsalted butter, chilled and cubed
2 tbsp. sugar
2/3 c. milk

Basically, you follow the same procedure as the cream scones (mixing dry ingredients, rubbing in butter, etc.), only preheat the oven to 450ºF and bake until brown (12-14 minutes).†

*To sound like a true Scot, this should be pronounced “skons.”
†You can also make scones on a griddle, called a “girdle” in Scots. It’s really quite appropriate: given how much butter/cream/DELICIOUS FAT is in scones, you’ll need a girdle after a while.