When I was little, every time I would spend the night at my grandparents-mostly at the lake- I would wake up to my grandpa whistling away in the kitchen. He is one of those mysterious people, who wake up at 3 or 4 and goes non-stop until his very early bedtime of 6 or 7. So when all of us grandkids would slowly trickle up the brown shag-carpeted stairs, he was ready for us. There was always eggs, bacon, pancakes, and most importantly-scones. I don't know what it was, but those scones crept their way into my entire family's hearts and remain my favorite pastry to date.
While I don't have grandpa's recipe, today seemed like a day for scones. It's summer, I feel like I'm on vacation, Meg is home and we have blackberries. Back to the scones in a minute...
Blackberries. These little purple balls of goodness were very under appreciated by me until recently. After getting some from Aunt Val, I've slowly become obsessed. My fascination comes from the fact that you can actually pick them at various locations around Seattle during the summer. Multiple times a week, I've driven over to Magnolia Park, walked along the fence and searched for anything that looks slightly ripe.
It was pretty much a let down until Meg and I went there on Friday. While she slept her jet lag away and layed on the grassy hill, I skipped around like a little kid picking every berry within reach. It's one of those simple joys in life. If you've never picked blackberries, I strongly recommend it. Ten stained fingers, a few thorns in the arm, and one stomach waayy too full of berries later, I was satisfied.
I finally had my berries and now for the big question-what to do with them? Meg and I ran through the options-muffins (too typical), pie (too fancy), mix into yogurt (again, too typical) then finally came up with scones.
Sunday morning seemed like the perfect time-coffee in hand, happy music in the background, birds chirping, really sunny, memories of grandpa at the lake, and warm, tangy steaming scones.
I am blessed and life is good.
