Clara started kindergarten on a Tuesday morning in September and I was not there for the drop-off because Mia said kindly but clearly that too many adults at the drop-off creates a scene, which is absolutely right and which I accepted gracefully while internally respecting the boundary and externally waiting by the phone. Ethan sent a photo: Clara in a blue dress with her backpack, which was larger than she was proportionally, standing at the school entrance with an expression of total composed readiness. She was not nervous. Of course she wasn't nervous. She was Clara.
She came home with six pages of information about her teacher (facts Clara had gathered through direct questioning), two new friends whose names I was given with context and brief biographical sketches, and a paper on which she had written her name in large careful letters and drawn what she identified as a fish but which looked, to my affectionate eye, more like a determined oval with ambitions. She showed me the fish over FaceTime with complete confidence. The fish was excellent.
I made a celebratory dinner for Ethan and Mia and the kids that evening: a chicken piccata, because that's what Ethan requested for special occasions since he was about twelve years old and it has remained the dinner I make when he needs celebrating. Clara ate her portion with the air of someone who had earned it, which she had. Henry mostly ate the lemon off the top, which is extremely Henry. Leo, seven months old and propped in his high chair with a selection of soft vegetables, watched the family dinner conversation with his typical total attention and reached frequently for things outside his range.
Kindergarten. The beginning of the formal learning years. My oldest grandchild, who made her first chocolate chip cookies in my kitchen last week, is now a student. The backpack will get lighter as she grows into it. The fish will get more fish-like. All of it going in exactly the direction it should go, at exactly the speed it needs to.
The chicken piccata was Ethan’s celebration dinner — his since he was twelve — but the morning after Clara’s first day of kindergarten belonged entirely to her, and to me, and to a quiet kitchen. I wanted something bright and a little special, something that tasted like the particular joy of watching a child walk confidently into a new chapter with a backpack bigger than she is. These blueberry ginger lemon scones are what I reach for when a moment deserves to be marked but not made loud about: a little sweet, a little tart, warm from the oven, and exactly right for a grandmother who spent the previous morning waiting by the phone and smiling at a photo of a blue dress.
Blueberry Ginger Lemon Scones
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 22 min | Total Time: 42 min | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1/4 cup granulated sugar
- 1 tablespoon baking powder
- 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
- 1 teaspoon ground ginger
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon zest (from about 2 lemons)
- 6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
- 1 cup fresh or frozen blueberries
- 2/3 cup cold heavy cream, plus more for brushing
- 1 large egg
- 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- 1/2 cup powdered sugar (for glaze)
- 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (for glaze)
Instructions
- Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.
- Combine dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, ginger, and lemon zest until evenly combined.
- Cut in the butter. Add the cold butter cubes to the flour mixture. Using your fingertips or a pastry cutter, work the butter into the flour until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs with some pea-sized pieces remaining. Work quickly so the butter stays cold.
- Add the blueberries. Gently fold the blueberries into the flour-butter mixture, being careful not to crush them.
- Mix the wet ingredients. In a small bowl or measuring cup, whisk together the cold heavy cream, egg, vanilla extract, and 1 tablespoon lemon juice.
- Bring the dough together. Pour the wet ingredients over the flour mixture and stir gently with a fork just until the dough comes together. Do not overmix — a shaggy, slightly sticky dough is exactly what you want.
- Shape and cut. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and pat gently into a round about 3/4-inch thick. Cut into 8 wedges and transfer to the prepared baking sheet, spacing them about 2 inches apart.
- Brush and bake. Brush the tops lightly with heavy cream. Bake for 18 to 22 minutes, until the tops are golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Transfer to a wire rack to cool for at least 10 minutes.
- Make the glaze. Whisk the powdered sugar and 2 tablespoons lemon juice together until smooth. Drizzle over the warm scones and allow to set for 5 minutes before serving.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 318 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 210mg