Showing posts with label scones. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scones. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Strawberry Chocolate Chip Scones Gluten Free Recipe

Gluten free scones with strawberries and chocolate chips
Easy gluten-free scone deliciousness.

Today was a good day. A strawberry and chocolate laced crusty on the outside tender on the inside kind of day. That's right. I got sconed. And the best part (aside from the fresh organic berry goodness, that is)? These golden biscuity morsels are vegan. That's right. No eggs. No milk. No butter (sorry, moo-cow fans).

On a whim yesterday (I am often prone to whims Dear Reader, especially after a sun dappled picnic on the Santa Fe plaza, perched on a bench beneath a flowering cherry tree across from a red robed Buddhist monk eating Chinese take-out. We devoured pesto slathered smoked turkey rolled in brown rice tortillas and I didn't drip a single green drop of cilantro infused olive oil on my ironed boot cut jeans) I picked up a Gluten-Free Pantry Muffin and Scone Mix at Whole Foods (long time readers know I miss my old favorite Pamela's Ultimate Baking Mix, and I've yet to find an all-purpose replacement mix that's half as good).

I was in such an expansive mood post my double espresso at the nearby Starbucks that I thought I might try baking something fun and slightly indulgent for the weekend. The organic strawberries smelled beyond heavenly in their ripe and ruby lusciousness. Yes, I smell all my fruit and veggies before I buy. Don't you? The woman with the amber handled cane you see standing in the Whole Foods produce aisle sniffing tomatoes and berries and anything else she can get her one free hand on, Darling?

That would be me.

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Thursday, December 26, 2013

Gluten Free Chocolate Chip Scones

Gluten free chocolate chip scone for tea time
Gluten-free scones for tea time, brunch or breakfast.


A story to eat scones by. A scone worthy story, in other words. One more glimpse into life on the side with our unreliable narrator.

Chapter 2.

It was ridiculous how nervous she was.  It was only a class. A painting workshop. It wasn't as if she was entering a world unknown. She knew this world.  Art school was only, what, fifteen years ago? Wrong tactic. Fifteen years is a lifetime ago. She shook it off, pushed the door open with her left hip and met the familiar aromatics of turpentine and linseed oil, the clatter of wooden easels and scrape of chipped metal stools as painters staked out their territory.

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