Chocolate Scones

Mother's Day. The last Mother's Day before I am a grandmother, which means this is a threshold, and I find I am standing on it with more wonder than ceremony. Next May there will be a Caleb Marcus in this story and everything about this day will be different in the particular way everything becomes different when a new person arrives and the family discovers what it was always supposed to contain.

Destiny and Travis came for brunch. CJ and Shanice came — Shanice in her thirty-second week, moving more carefully, sitting longer, accepting the cushion I brought without being asked because she is a wise woman. I made the full brunch: quiche with roasted peppers, biscuits, a fruit salad heavy on the strawberries because they are at peak right now and there is no virtue in restraint when the strawberries are right. And a honey cake because Destiny wanted it and also because it seemed appropriate for the threshold day.

After brunch Travis made a toast. He thanked me for Destiny, which he does every year, and this year he added: and for the table you built that I walked into five years ago and immediately felt the force of it. That's a man who pays attention to rooms. Shanice raised her glass too and said: for raising a man who knew to come to Tuscaloosa and stand in a yard and wait to be met. That was CJ's story, their story, in eight words. I raised my glass. I said: the table is yours too. It has been for a while now. All of it. It's yours.

The biscuits I made that morning came out the way biscuits should — warm, a little crumbly at the edges, the kind of thing that disappears before you think to save one for yourself. These chocolate scones are what I reach for when I want that same warmth but with something a little more celebratory about them, which felt right for a day when Travis was making toasts and Shanice was accepting cushions graciously and I was standing on a threshold trying to take it all in. You make something tender and a little sweet, and you put it on the table, and the table does the rest.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 18 minutes | Total Time: 33 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
3/4 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
2/3 cup heavy cream, plus more for brushing
1 large egg
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons coarse sugar, for topping

Instructions

Preheat oven. Heat your oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.
Mix dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, granulated sugar, baking powder, and salt until evenly combined.
Cut in butter. Add the cold butter cubes to the flour mixture. Using your fingertips or a pastry cutter, work the butter in until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs with some pea-sized pieces remaining. Stir in the chocolate chips.
Combine wet ingredients. In a small bowl or measuring cup, whisk together the heavy cream, egg, and vanilla extract.
Form the dough. Pour the cream mixture into the dry ingredients and stir gently with a fork just until the dough begins to come together — do not overmix. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and gently press into a 3/4-inch-thick circle, about 8 inches across.
Cut and arrange. Cut the circle into 8 wedges and transfer them to the prepared baking sheet, spacing them about 2 inches apart. Brush the tops lightly with heavy cream and sprinkle with coarse sugar.
Bake. Bake for 16 to 18 minutes, until the tops are set and the edges look dry. A toothpick inserted in the center should come out with only a few moist crumbs. Do not overbake.
Cool slightly and serve. Let the scones rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chocolate Scones — The Biscuits I Make When the Table Feels Like Home