It is amazing how the mind remembers and forgets and how the tiniest thing will spark a flood of memories cherished and warm and you wonder, “How did I ever forget?” And then you have the greatest desire to share it with your own family.
My favorite mornings as a child were when I would awake to the sound of the bread mixer. It ment delicious hot fresh bread that day and there was nothing better, especially with butter melting on top. As I would climb the stairs from my basement bedroom I would emerge from the dark into the warm cozy glow of the kitchen. Mom would be making breakfast usually as the bread mixed and the sound would fill the kitchen and house. Usually breakfast would consist of oatmeal, or some other kind of mush which I didn’t care for too much. There were times of eggs, or pancakes and sometimes even bacon. Cold cereal was something that we only had on trips and Christmas (I remember often that there would be one of those mini boxes of cold cereal tucked into our stocking on Christmas morning – we were always so excited at the novelty). Then there were these mornings when sometimes, espeically if there were some special occasion, when Mom would make the most wonderful thing ever. We called them scones – though they weren’t really, I suppose the correct name would be fry bread, or something like that, but to me the will always and forever be known as scones.
Mom would roll out the bread dough, cut it into pieces and fry it. The funnest times were when we got to help with the cutting out. We would get all creative and make letters – the first initial of each person’s name. We would do shapes and braids. Sometimes we would even grab the cookie cutters and do fancier shapes.
Mom would drop them in the hot oil and we would watch as the bubbled and browned until the were fetched dripping hot from the pan. We would carefully pat them down dry in paper towls and add them to the growing stack on the table.
Soon it was eating time. Hot maple syrup was poured over them – sometimes even fresh using maple from trees the boys had tapped. And, then there was always peanut butter. I don’t know who started the peanut butter, but the most devine thing was to spread peanut butter, always chunky, over the scone and then pour the hot syrup on top. The peanut but would melt and go all gooey. Mmmmmm Then you sank your teeth in and tasted the gooey goodness, and nothing could ever go wrong in the world. I’m sure we put other things on the scones as well, but the syrup and peanut butter was the staple. We actually did peanut butter and syrup on pancakes and waffles too, but it never tasted as good as it did on our scones.
I never thought to forget about scones, I mean how could I? They were a childhood favorite. I made them a few times when Paul and I were just married – and introduced him to the peanut butter and syrup combination – after a brief moment where he thought I was insane, he quickly discovered just how wonderful it was. 🙂 Then a few weeks ago we were doing something and the memory of scones in the morning came flooding back with the force of a two by four smacking me right between the eyes.
I couldn’t wait for the next Saturday to arrive as I got up early and began mixing bread dough. We didn’t do all the shapes we did as kids, I was just excited to eat scones again 🙂 but that will come later. The kids loved the novelty of peanut butter and syrup together – another generation of warped kids coming up 😉 and my kitchen was flooded with cherished memories from my childhood as I made scones for my little family. They were readily devoured by all of us, and I can promise, I’m not going to be forgetting now. I have four little people who will eagerly remind me of our devine breakfast, and maybe, just maybe, someday they will have a few little people reminding them of their devine breakfast, and the memories will cross generations and bind us all together.