My new friend Naomi just posted a picture of her Roomba on her Facebook page, and now all of a sudden, I find myself unable to think about anything but this little round vacuum that cleans your floors while you do other things like, for example, not clean your floors. And given how much time I spend not cleaning my floors, I figure I could really, really use a Roomba.
So now I'm trying to concentrate on (Roomba) the scones up there (Roomba), and tell you about how lemony (Roomba) they are, and make you want to (Roombaroombaroomba) make them, but I can't. I can't tell you about the scones at all, not even a little, because every single one of my brain cells is preoccupied with thoughts of a UFO-shaped vacuum I do not even own.
How does this happen, exactly? How do people like myself, who used to be able to engage in intelligent discourse on current events, world affairs, and topics of cultural significance, suddenly become preoccupied with vacuum cleaners and their promises of a better, more organized life? I'm not even talking about my friend here, but about myself. Why can't I stop thinking about THE DAMN ROOMBA! I WANNA ROOMBA!
ROOMBA!
Just think: I could throw a really fantastic brunch, and feed everyone these scones, and not dirty a single plate. I could just hand the scones out, plateless, and say, "Relax, friends! Just enjoy yourselves, and don't fret about the crumbs. I'll take care of them later. It's not a problem at all." And then we'll hang out, eat scones, and make a godawful mess, leaving in our wake a sea of sticky, lemon-flavored crumbles.
And then my friends will leave, and I will turn on my Roomba and put my feet up somewhere, and my crumbs, and my worries, and my many, many imperfections will all... simply... disappear.
...
Recipe for Iced Lemon Scones
Most of my scones are rough adaptations of the base recipe in Lora Brody's Basic Baking. This variation adds a lemony jolt thanks to lemon juice, zest, extract, and a punchy yet elegant lemon glaze. I used Meyer lemons, but you're welcome to use standard lemons as well.
Makes 12 scones
2 cups cake flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
Zest of 1 Meyer lemon (about 1 tablespoon, firmly packed)
1/2 teaspoon lemon extract
1 1/3 cups cold heavy cream
1 tablespoon lemon juice
3/4 cup confectioners' sugar, sifted
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Stack two baking sheets together (this helps prevent the bottoms from burning) and line the top sheet with parchment or a silicone mat.
Sift the flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt into a large bowl. Stir in the lemon zest. In a measuring cup, stir the lemon extract into the heavy cream, then dribble this mixture over the dry ingredients. Stir with a wooden spoon until you have a shaggy dough. Scrape the bottom to make sure you absorb all the dry bits into the dough mass.
Dump the dough onto a floured board. Knead about 10 times, then pat into a 6" diameter disc about 3/4" thick. Use a floured 2" round cutter to stamp out circles, and transfer them to the baking sheet. Bake in the center of the oven for 18 to 20 minutes, turning the baking sheet around back to front halfway through.
Meanwhile, make the glaze. Drip half the lemon juice into a large bowl, then whisk in the powdered sugar. If the glaze is too dry, add a little more lemon juice until you achieve a thick, opaque icing. Press a sheet of plastic wrap directly on the surface until ready to use.
When scones are ready, let cool for a few minutes, then spread thickly with the glaze. If you run out of glaze (you may), simply make up another partial batch as needed.
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