Bad Bad Bad Pancake Scones

It was only a matter of time before I had my first major failure to write about and it actually took longer than I thought for it to happen. I flew too close to the sun on wings of pastrami on this one and got burned…or I don’t know. Basically, I tried to make scones because I am obsessed with the lemon ginger scones at the coffee shop across from the street from my apartment; I can’t go in there without buying one. I figured why not combine fucking scones and fucking pancakes, two of my true loves.

But I did a fucking disservice to both by completely substituting pancake mix for all-purpose flour and proved how terrible an inexperienced of a baker I am. As if I didn’t already know.

We’re going to go on a little photographic journey here because pictures write the true story and reveal some terrible looking pancake “scones.”

My friend Bill sent me this pancake mix from Tennessee. Apparently it’s from a well-known restaurant in Chatanooga that had the brilliant idea of packaging up their beloved pancakes and selling it in mix form. It’s the best mix he’s ever had and what a kind gesture to send it to someone like me who’s going to A) fuck it up and B) fuck it up bad. Here I am snapping pics and writing the recipe out converted into grams so I can meticulously measure my ingredients out for pure baking precision. I was excited. I am such an asshole.

It should have been a sign when I made a complete mess about two seconds after this picture of my meticulous measurement was taken by tipping the measuring cup over and coating everything in pancake mix. Let’s go ahead and waste my finite supply of the good stuff from the fine folks of Chatanooga. I was still optimistic at this point, because my tiny brain was still high on endorphins after conceiving this on a whim and really “going for it.”

Whoa, hey, look. We’re getting somewhere. Yeah, get those two separate bowls of wet and dry ingredients going. You’re a pro, you’re a star. Your baking skills are second only to your brilliance and everyone likes you and you have perfect hair and skin. You best get yourself a beverage, you’ve got this on lockdown. You idiot.

I will take this moment to say that Key Lime La Croix is by far the best flavor they’ve made. Please do not argue that it’s the same as straight forward lime, because it’s not. It’s life-changing and I haven’t stopped buying it since I found it. It’s the longest streak of buying the same flavor in my entire La Croix buying life. Notebook. Bowls. Whatever, we know where this is headed, but just trust me on the La Croix thing, it’s all I ask. Now hold on to your hats, take a deep breath and get ready to laugh at how pathetic these fucking things look pre-oven.

LOL. After I mixed the wet and dry stuff together, I immediately knew the batter was too runny. But I had gotten so inside my head about the ratios having to be exact that I had scared myself out of just adding some flour to help firm up the dough. Instead, I was left with “dough” that was more like kinetic sand. It was sticky, goopy and somehow kept it’s form in a round circle without being completely liquid. This…formation was the result of me cutting a round blob into “wedges” and giving them room to “rise” in the oven.

In order to help the gluten “rest,” I slid the pan into the freezer for 30 minutes because that’s what the fucking recipe said to do. The recipe didn’t know that I use my freezer as a liquor cabinet and I had to rearrange the whole thing just to fit the pan in there. The recipe also didn’t know that I was dealing with pancake scone sludge that would do little while in the freezer but get cold for half an hour while I downed more Key Lime La Croix.

I had some time to kill while my dough was “resting” in the freezer, so I started to get stuff together to make some coffee. My cat Erma came over to investigate because A) she is my literal shadow and B) I had her favorite kitchen utensil. It’s this shitty little wooden thing that came with a cheap af utensil set I bought at Big Lots when I moved into my first apartment something like 15 years ago. I now use it to stir my french press. She goes bonkers for that thing and it’s adorable but she doesn’t even like coffee or Big Lots, so I’m not sure why she loves this thing so.

Whatever. I pulled the “scones” out of the freezer after their 30 minute “resting” session and put them into the oven. This is what they looked like when they came out.

Look at that sad little container of syrup icing I made. WTF is this? Cake? Dried cream corn? Bread ends? A miserable failure? Scones? They tasted like salty cookies, which isn’t a terrible thing, but when you have a grand vision in your head of pancake scone perfection, salty cookies won’t cut it.

There’s no point in dwelling on my complete and utter failure to bring pancake scones to life. I scraped what little pride I had left (similar to the “scone” scraps I scraped off the baking sheet and ate) and began to make a breakfast I could eat without eating a disgrace. Boil water, ground beans, measure grounds. Pour, wait. Stir, wait. Press, pour. This I can handle. Why explore creative endeavors when you can hide in the safety of rote activities like making coffee. Fuck you pancakes scones, you don’t own me anymore.

Eggs, bagel thins, spinach and Valentina’s hot sauce. Breakfast sandwiches never go out of style. I still ate the “pancake scones” because I like salty cookies. I was, however, so bothered by my failure in making “pancake scones” that I tried to make “scone” scones a day later and they turned out perfect. I can pull off good pancake scones, I know it, and the hell if I’m not going to try again soon.

TO BE CONTINUED.