I purposefully gave these scones that name because they are so, pardon my french, righteous.

These again came from Sherry Yard’s cookbook Desserts by the Yard that I recently rented from the Santa Monica library.  She has a whole chapter on English desserts since she worked there for a year early in her career.   While I’m not the biggest scone lover, the real raison I made these scones was actually to go with the kumquat marmalade that I had to make to use up the basket of kumquats that I purchased at Trader Joe’s on a whim.   And then, since I made the marmalade, I had to go and buy a bag of lemons to make lemon curd to go with the scones and marmalade.  And since I knew I was going to be making scones, I decided to pick up a bag of golden raisins at the Indian grocery store in Artesia to put in the scones.  (Are you now starting to understand the madness that my poor husband has to put up with?)

So first the scones.   They were really nice.  Really quite right.  (O.K. you don’t expect me to start gushing all over the place about scones, now do you?  I mean they’re just scones.)  But, given their inherent limitations, these were flaky, flavorful, definitely not too sweet, and just the medium that you’d want for your clotted cream, marmalade, and lemon curd.  The fat raisins (golden raisins plumped up by orange juice and rum) were key players in the flavor department.  And, even though the recipe didn’t call for quite as much as I added, the lemon zest was a real boon as well.  Of the several scone recipes I’ve tried, this one definitely ranks top.

So for the marmalade, I really just winged it (wong it?) since I couldn’t find a recipe I liked. I cut the kumquats into quarters, painstakingly removed all the little seeds, dumped them into a pot with 1/2 cup sugar, half a split vanilla bean and 3 cardamon pods, covered with water and simmered away til I got the pectin thickness I was going for.  The kumquat is not just sour, but acrid. It’s got that mature flavor, rather like how coffee, gin or cigars have a mature flavor.  That acridity definitely is front and center in this marmalade.  But the secondary vanilla and cardamon flavors follow close behind and impart a nice finish.  This one’s a keeper too.

Finally, the lemon curd. I’ve made a lot of lemon curd in my day and so I decided to take a risk and try the microwave method describe on an allrecipes.com page.  I don’t know if it was the cooking method, the anemic lemons I bought at Trader Joe’s or the gratuitous amount of butter caller for, but this wasn’t my favorite recipe. I think next time, I’ll reduce the butter and try to stick only with Meyer lemons which produce a more floral flavor and a deeper yellow color.

So overall, scones = very right, cadamon kumquat marmalade = quite right, lemon curd = all right.  Hope their recipients like them.

But the blog must go on!

Luckily, the chocolate whiskey cake from Sherry Yard’s Desserts by the Yard cookbook isn’t much of a looker.  Even my mentor (you don’t mind if I call you that, do ya’ Sherr?) didn’t put a picture of it in her book.  It’s not that she’s ugly – the cake – but she just needs to be dressed up a bit, kinda like Minnie Driver.  Sliced thin, lying on the side, a dollop of softly whipped cream draped over the edge, and a glistening mound of tangy kumquat marmalade for gild and – voila! -  she’s ready for her close-up.  She was dark, dense, and decadent.

Actually, some confessions should be made.  There might have been some booze goggles involved, after all the recipe did call for a full cup (!) of whisky. I substituted rum – it was either that or the tequila.  In fact, now that it’s all coming back to me, the whole incident was a bit  messy.   Crusty chocolate battered bowls are still strewn all over the counter.  (Note to self: chop finely before attempting to melt 12 oz. chocolate in the microwave.)

In the end though, after she made her way through Cat’s party, I still took her home with me at the end of the night.  She was great in the morning with some coffee.