Blueberry scone
Reports of my scone reviewing demise have been greatly exaggerated.
That is not to say all remains the same. Clad in a surgical mask (concealing the identity of this humble scone-reviewer), I wander into an establishment thats very name seems to question its raison d’être. This ambivalence will prove portentous. My instinct had been to purchase a corn muffin because the scones appeared… wanting. Yet, I am duty-bound to review scones and scone review I shall.
What to say about this dear mound? It is a sizable lump. Examining it closely, it appears dry and rubbery. Perhaps it would bounce off the floor given a few more days of maturation. The darker golden stretches appear like the exterior of a marble statue, dashed with darkened spots of blueberry. The stretching crevasses are shallow and smooth. A close view would be indistinguishable from rover images of the surface of Mars.
Diving in, I immediately regret every decision that led me to this action. Its rubbery surface obscures a dry mess. The outside fights back. Its chewiness is awful. The bottom is downright stale. Golden portions of its marble casing simply flake off — a desiccated husk.
Quickly, the structural integrity of the scones fails and it crumbles into pieces (see Figure 1). My low expectations have been eclipsed, in the negative direction.
I would be remiss to overlook its barest of saving graces: there is minimal acceptable sweetness. Yet, the fruit is lost among the clump. The blueberries appear to have evaporated, leaving only their blue-marking to indicate their fleeting existence.
I regard the crumbled statue, internal chunks clinging desperately to the floor. It is simply too stale for me to go on.
I dispose of the remains.
3/10
-DANG
Dang Scones 