It is a Scone. Sold by an idiot, full of sound and fury. Signifying nothing. – Roadhouse (Talkeetna, Alaska)

Blackberry Scone

Stuck on a glacier for several weeks, this scone concludes a month long period of abstinence from my beloved pastries.  Given such conditioning, one would presume that I am primed to enjoy whatever combination of fruit, dough, and sugar I can get my hands on.  Yet, I am sad to report that this assumption is incorrect.  Poor execution shines through despite all that was on this scone’s side.  I am like the man, wandering the desert, starving and thirsty, who turns his nose up at what poor creation he stumbles upon in the fever dream oasis of his mind.

At first, the smell of the scone is overwhelming. I can clearly see it is undercooked, but that does not lessen its appeal.  Of some concern is the mysterious orange item on its side.  Yet, this merely adds intrigue.  The sparse powdered sugar even suggests something out of the norm.

However, this hastily crafted refuse manages to disappoint on all fronts.  There is simply no crunch.  I cannot detect an ounce of sugar.  The fruit is fine, but nothing special.  The scone tastes as undercooked as its marble white dough would suggest.  Indeed, one wonders if it were baked at all.  I can taste the separate composite ingredients, and I do not mean that the fruit stands out.  Simply, it is as though several items were tossed into a bowl, mushed together, and served down my idiotic gullet.

While the scone is of fine size, this provides me with nothing but more of it to loathe.  I am drawn to the crisp seeds within the blackberries because they are the only element fully realized within this poor creation.  Of course, that is the doing of the blackberries, not the scone’s inept bakers.

In my animalistic rush to consume this monstrosity, I stain my hands with blackberry juice.  It runs down my hands like blood.  I wash and wash, but the stain will not go.  I’m cursed to forever walk this earth carrying memories sullied by this utter disappointment.




MadiScone Blues – Lazy Jane’s Cafe (Madison, Wisconsin)

Blackberry Scone

I will travel far and wide for an exquisite scone.  Finding myself in a dairy capital, the lowly scone may seem an odd bedfellow for the more ubiquitous cheese curd.  Nonetheless, Lazy Jane’s Café purports to be a fine trader in the delicacy of scones.  Boasting a variety of fruit options, this seeming anomaly reveals its Sconnie roots upon closer examination: glistening layers of sugar flow down the sides of the scone forming white skirts around its base.   Not one to be intimidated by excess sugar, I approach this Blackberry feast with high hopes.  The quality of the fruit is apparent on sight and the size is completely adequate.  Yet, I leave disappointed.

This donut-like entity displays summits and trenches that seem to suggest crunch by virtue of surface area.  However, these features belie the softness of the material.  With the first bite, a rush of sugar combines with real berries to initially overwhelm the disappointment of the pliable border.  Further, the lack of glazed sugar inside the scone appears to create a nice contrast between the subtle, dry inside and the maniacally sugared outside.  Yet, this mixture is unsustainable.  As soon as the desert-like inners outpace the sugar and all fruit disappears, the essential qualities of the pastry are unmasked.  The scone is dry and dense, clotting in the eater’s mouth.  Moreover, the inside lacks flavor.  The creator clearly expects the flavor to derive from the fruit and glazed sugar, but these elements cannot penetrate the dry indifference that lies beneath the surface.

With so much promise, the ultimate lack of execution leads the eater to dark thoughts.  In our evanescent times, with so many mayfly pleasures, this scone offers a sugary cheap thrill, but lacks thoughtful presence.  To have grasped for the sublime, but to fall so very short, I am left dejected.  Maybe in another time, and another life.