How to Bake a Pumpkin Scone Loaf

One episode from the domestic life of a modern young woman...

Setting: The eve of S's birthday bash.
The kitchen, bench top full of ingredients promising culinary masterpieces to awe guests for said upcoming event.

Cast: S (as P is elsewhere - not exactly sure where, but probably indulging in something thoroughly bohemian.)


Now viewers, it is my recomendation to do a little research before commencing any kitchen caper if one is intending others to partake in the fruits of one's labour. Not afraid to take a dose of my own medicine, I have found a recipe for pumpkin scones and proceeded to do just as I pleased, believing that creativity is as vital ingredient as any. Here follows the recipe with my annotations to help you in your quest for the perfect loaf:

Ingredients:

You will need to cook about 250g of pumpkin for this recipe.

Never use a scale to measure anything, resting assured in one's keen eye to judge mass or weight or whatever the correct scientific term may be.

• 40g butter
• 1/4 cup of caster sugar
• 1 egg
• 3/4 cup of cooked mashed pumpkin

Note the ambiguity of this instruction, therefore cook pumpkin anyway one pleases. I opted for a lightly roasted pumpkin, slicing the unasuming vegetable into small irregular shapes, collating them in a ceramic baking tray and seasoning them with salt and pepper, nutmeg, some lovely olive oil and a generous amount of delicately flavoured honey. Into an oven heated at 180 degrees C for 15 to 20 minutes.

• 2 1/2 cups self-raising flour
• 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg

Now come to the realisaion that one has already added nutmeg to the pumpkin, as well as oil and perhaps that may affect the amount of butter and since salt was also added it may be wise to use usalted butter instead. The solution: Use half unsalted butter and half of the regular sort to what one would consider (using one's keen eye) as less than 40g but more than 20g. As to the nutmeg, close one's eyes, shake the jar and let the earthy granules fall where it may.

• 1/3 cup milk, approximately

Serving size: Makes about 16 (or one small loaf)

Introduction

These scones were made famous in the 70's by Flo Bjelke-Petersen, wife of an Australian State Premier. As taken from the Women's Weekly cookery series, Old Fashion Favourites.

This loaf is well on its way to infamy, created by S who is the wife of nobody but has oft been informed that one day she will make a man very proud. This is usually received with a grimace and a sarcastic 'thankyou'. It is futher her hope that what here follows will alay any persistent misaprehension of S's matrimonial suitability.

Method

1. Lightly grease two 20cm round sandwich pans.

I ask one - what is a sandwich pan? Well this can not be of dire consequence so prepare what ever oven tray that strikes your fancy.

2. Beat butter and sugar in a small bowl with electric mixer until light and fluffy; gradually beat in egg.

3. Stir in pumpkin, then sifted dry ingredients and enough milk to make a soft sticky dough. Turn dough onto floured surface,knead lightly until smooth.

With happy abandon add the dash of milk. The happines is abruptly curbed as one realises that perhaps that dash of milk was a little too joyous and also a little too excessive. Never mind, add some more flour and knead. There, now it is getting somewhere - raise one's hopes like the flag of a triumphant company of waring men, marching home from the their foreign conquests.

This lasts but a moment as futher kneading is still not resulting in 'soft sticky dough'. Well it is soft and certainly is sticky, but to everythng but itself. Using one's dough covered hand, thrust some more flour on the offending mixture. Knead, still it falls short of expectation. Repeat until it becomes undeniably clear that this will never be those lovely round scones one so naively dreampt of but 20 minutes ago.

Now give oneself to the throws of despair. Take dough and raise high above one's head. Then, summoning all of ones frustration, disillunsionment and anger, dash that thing upon the unforgiving hard surface of one's benchtop. Ensure that dough is splatterd on the surrounding kitchen landscape, including one's hair, face and clothing. Beat remaining dough, two fisted until the pain in one's knuckles begin to eclipse the sorrow of one's soul.

Stop and assess the horror of defeat, marinade in the resulting anguish. Forsake the will to go on, let one's knees grow weak and slowly descend to the kitchen floor. Remain there for about 5 minutes or until one feels oneself becoming slightly chilled. At this point reality should begin to reamerge as one begins to imagine how this scene may strike an innocent bystander - they may think the domestic carnage a little melodramatic, perhaps even vaguely humourous.

Stand, and come to the conclusion that to add the dough to the failed cupcakes already in the bin would be an injury too many to one's frugal nature. Gather all salvageable dough and snigger at the cruelty insinuated by the following instruction.

4. Press dough out to about 2cm thickness, cut 5cm rounds form dough. Place rounds, just touching, in prepeared pans. Brush tops with a little milk.

Instead, line small bread tin with baking paper, wrecklessly dump dough on baking paper, and shove into hot oven for however long it takes to bake through.

5. Bake scones in a very hot oven for about 15mins.

Smile serenly as one's housemates/family members return to this bastion of domestic bliss.

S.