I'm back... I guess?

Since July, you could say that "change" was a common theme for me. 

My webcomic: One Day Closer, a comic about LDRs

I got a full time job (July). I started another artsy project (July). I moved out (October). I started paying bills (October). I got and lost a new animal companion (October), followed by the adoption of two new ones (November). I learned about dealing with out of the blue expenses (October - January). I make change for laundry (weekly). I got engaged and celebrated my third anniversary with CK (December).

My job at the Washington Youth Garden: Helping FoodCorps members at an event

When the office got too technical, it's awesome to go out to the garden.

Life went forward, and yet Meals with Morri stagnated and seemed difficult to update. Recipes were thrown together and not meticulously tested. Food was made, eaten, and forgotten about.

Thistle, my first rabbit, died too soon. RIP October 2015.

My friends and family encouraged me. They asked when another post would be put up. It raised the question as to what this site was, and how it would go forward. To quote one of my dearest friends: "Wait, Meals with Morri is a food blog?"

Bran and Teague: my Super Pooper Fluffbutts

When I started this blog, it was to talk about managing and healing my various ailments. It was to share my progress and experiences in taking back my life into my hands. It was to process the concept of cooking at home and to self-reflect my day-to-day life.

On a positive note: I've become quite good at pizza.

So no, I suppose it really wasn't a food blog. It was a journal, a diary, a reflective practice with gluten/soy/cane sugar recipes. It revolved around food, but it wasn't an online cookbook.

Through Meals with Morri, I overcame my disordered eating habits, found a healthy middle man with exercise and being okay with chocolate and fried food, became confident in my body and my abilities, learned about the local food movement, and found my passions that led to the start of a fulfilling career.

But the things I expected from this blog never really came to fruition. I saw amazing men and women turn their lives around and make careers from their blog. I saw amazing artistic and aesthetic abilities in their photography, and beautiful contemplation in recipe design. 

It's so weird to call CK fiance now, but he is and it's awesome.

Me? I certainly enjoyed it, but I happened to be okay with recipes not "replacing" their gluteny counterparts in look and taste. I was quite content with simply enjoying new grains to incorporate to my expanding diet, and accepted that it may turn out a little differently. But how do you convey that to a reader? How do you say, "It isn't a replacement, it's a recipe all it's own?"

I've also realized that my initial goals for blogging didn't grow up with me. I don't have a best selling cookbook. I'm not known in the gluten free community. And oddly enough, it felt weird for me to push that. My blog was an individual experience to taking back my health, talking about the links with the environment, the body, and the spirit, learning about the psychological effects of being "other" simply because you happened to eat differently.

I learned how to make latkes from the ultimate source: CK's nana. Coincidentally, I used the term putz correctly when describing someone, and she promptly laughed, hugged me, and called me adorable.

I'm not the same person who started this personal movement in April 2011. My tolerance for bullshit and worrying about what people think has decreased significantly, and that cost me a lot of unfulfilling relationships (no issues there). In retrospect, writing and capturing my life on Meals with Morri met the personal goal that honestly should have been my top priority: I took back my health and gave the status quo the finger. I got angry and was okay about it.

So you will see that I've changed the Meals with Morri motto to being personal, to not being about the gluten free movement, and being more about self-reliant and sustainability mind. There are enough gluten free bloggers to empower others in taking care of themselves, and I'm proud to say I participated in that and helped people by answering questions or making recipes they could enjoy.

Five years is a good time to evolve, don't you think? 

 I want to thank everyone who participated in this blog up until this point, for the support, the criticism, the good, the bad, the screwups, and the successes. MWM is no longer the focus of my abilities, but an addition to my dialogue. It may be days, weeks, months, until I update. It may be never.

And for the first time, I'm pretty okay with that.

When in Rome, make a Cheese Plate (Part V of V)

This is it: the final cheese plate. It has taken almost two months, but work is picking up at the office, and it feels great to be busy. I would have finished this earlier, but I’m also grieving the loss of my nine-year-old cat Miette. 

It feels strange to lose someone so dear to you while you’re abroad. On one hand, not being in the same place they were in removes the aspect of being constantly reminded that their presence is no longer there. On the other hand, the idea of not seeing her when I visit for the holidays or when I Skype my parents… it’s a blow to the heart, for sure.

A quick eulogy.

Miette had a tender tummy (like me). She struggled to hold food down, and we ended up putting her on a gluten free diet. Our cats have always been given supplements, special kitty litter, and different meal types (wet and dry) from companies that value quality for our four-legged family members as much as we do.

Finding out that Miette had passed while I was abroad brought about similar grieving patterns you would expect: the five stages of grief and loss. Part of me wishes it were a sick joke. Part of me thinks that it was my fault because I wasn’t there for her (or for my other cat, Lilli, who grieved heavily and searched for her for weeks). Part of me is grateful she was loved and taken care of until the end, but also angry with myself and in general. And a huge part of me struggles to fall asleep until after one a.m., even a month later, because we all know where thoughts can go in the darkness of night when you’re grieving.

She was a wonderful and slightly insane cat. She was picky. She insisted on waking people up at four in the morning to turn on the sink for her to drink water. She chaperoned CK’s and my walks around the neighborhood. She was fiercely loyal and she loved with all of her being. And goodness, that sandpaper tongue… She was the perfect model, who posed for photos and always looked at the lens.

She loved the weirdest foods too. She loved coconut milk and tried to eat avocado (they aren’t good for kitties, so stop them immediately when they do). She and Lilli would sneak onto the counters and eat meat or animal fats had been left out.

She was weird. She was obnoxious. She was sweet. She was family. She was part of this awesome dynamic kitty duo that slept with me under the covers. She made having a tender tummy something to bond over and not feel wrong for. She was there for me through heartbreak, through high school, college, and graduate school. She was there when Meals with Morri was created. It feels so bizarre that a lot of things are continuing on and she won’t be there to see it.

The sadness is lessening each day, but I will always miss her and grateful to have had such an amazing friend in my life.
 

During the last week of August, CK and I completed the South Italy cheese plate. Instead of trying to find food and wine pairings, like I had with the previous ones, I decided to make homemade buckwheat crackers and cracked open a cider and beer. The regions were Abruzzo, Apulia, Basilicata, Calabria, Compania, and Molise. One cheese was used to represent Calabria and Compania, since the cheese is found in both.

I apologize in advance for the descriptions to not be particularly descriptive. It’s been a while, and I’ve forgotten individual tastes and flavors. However, like the patterns of the previous regions, this particular region emphasized on mild flavors and semi-hard cheeses, usually pear shaped (which I will get into in a moment), showing that mild doesn’t have to mean tasteless. Almost all are considered pasta filata cheeses with a spicy aftertaste depending on the cheese’s maturation.

From Abruzzo, we tried Pecorino di Farindola Stagionato. It is a slightly piquant, grassy flavored cheese, with a small peppery aftertaste that is just delightful. 

We next tried Pallone di Gravina, a cheese found in both Apulia and Basilicata. A stretched-curd cheese, it’s hung to mature, resulting in the cheese being either pear-shaped or round.

From Basilicata, although this cheese is found throughout the South, we tasted Caciocavello Silano, a D.O.P. cheese. The spiciness comes from the aging process in the cellars along with Sila’s climate. It is rich cream color throughout, but with sporadic holes.

Caciotto represented Calabria and Compania, although I am curious whether or not there is a longer name to it. I recall this one being the most mild of the cheeses, kind if like a young provolone.

Finally, it took me quite a while to find a cheese from Molise, but it was a hidden gem in the form of Caciocavello di Agnone. Another pear-shaped cheese, its production in Molise is recognized and included in the list of traditional Italian food products (PAT). Its origins are also considered to be quite old, and perhaps the cheese with the oldest history we had tried.

This concludes my five-part Italian Cheese Plate Project! Despite trying over twenty different cheeses, this doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the many cheeses Italy has brought to the world. There is still a cheese from Sardegna that my Sardinian friend at the office wants me to try, and if any of you can recommend other cheeses from the regions, please let me know! 

I also have another project I want to look into: French butter. I finished a book on Julia Child's exploits in France (also in Germany and Norway) where she raved over how each region had its own butter, consisting of different flavors, textures, and uses.

Luckily, I don’t think CK will mind.

When in Rome, make a Cheese Plate (Part IV of V)

While I didn’t finish writing up the cheese plates by the time I left for Malta to resume my internship, I did hold on to my notes of the cheeses for the remaining two. For both plates, I struggled with pairings, if only because many sites reference wine and cheese pairings and not necessarily food and cheese. I paired the cheeses with mostarda and jam, but it seemed like these cheeses all paired with the tomato sauce the best. Everything else was a mediocre combination.

The other struggle I had was the time limit. I only had a week to finish three, and so the last two were rather rushed. That, and I wanted to spend as much time with CK without the camera lens between us before continuing on with the long distance (LD) status.

And we did.

The fourth cheese plate combines two regions that aren’t near each other whatsoever; they aren’t even connected to Italy’s mainland. The two I’m referring to make up Insular Italy, Sicily (Sicilia) and Sardinia (Sardegna).

As with many of these regions, I didn’t know much about either. They are Italian, but they are also immensely proud of being Sicilian or Sardinian. As they are not connected to the mainland, they are culturally different in many ways. And one of many things that distinguish these two regions is the food culture.

Since they are not connected and nowhere near each other, their cheeses were profoundly different. Both were saltier than any of the cheeses CK and I had tasted so far. We also picked two cheeses for both regions, of which one was represent with a DOP cheese and the other a cheese that happened to be offered in Eataly.

Now… about the wine. I couldn’t find Sardinian wine, sadly, so I chose a Sicilian wine to pair with both. I was rather disappointed with the pairing, to be honest. It didn’t fit with any of the cheeses, and following the cheese plate we realized that it just wasn’t a wine we preferred. It seemed too sour, and equally too pithy, for our liking. The wine we had was a 2011 Irmana Il Nero d'Avola E Il Frappato, from Sicily. Perhaps it was meant to be a table wine for a certain type of dish, but as I said, we just didn’t enjoy it like we had the others.

For Sicilia, we chose Ragusano (DOP) and Secondo Sale. The Ragusano is a dry cheese, but its buttery flavor was a lot like the butter Mama Dazz ordered from the Amish. It had a sour, pungent aftertaste that wasn’t exactly smoky, but reminded me of cooking over an open fire. The Secondo Sale, or “Second Salting”, was sharp and smoky cheese with glorious bits of whole black peppercorns throughout the cheese. It was so buttery, the natural oils beaded on top of the cheese.

For Sardegna, we chose Fiore Sardo (DOP) and RE Priamo*. The Fiore Sardo had also beaded natural oils onto the surface, and while sour, it wasn’t as pungent as the Ragusano. The RE Priamo, or whatever it is actually called, was the softest cheese on the plate as well as the most mild. It was sweet and buttery, but not tasteless, and had notes of tomato.

As mentioned, I really struggled with the pairings, if only because these cheeses were meant to be topped on some homemade tomato sauce. I was a bit discouraged with how it came together, and I’m still flinching over the presentation of the last one, but the cheeses were quite delightful. The lesson here is that I really want to travel to these different regions to taste their cheeses, although Eataly had definitely opened my eyes to what is out there.

* To this day I am still confused about the name of this cheese. Its name was on display as I’ve typed it here, and it says it originates from Sardegna. If anyone knows anything about this cheese, please comment below!

When in Rome, make a Cheese Plate (Part III of V)

After three cheese plates, CK and I started to see patterns. With the first cheese plate, we saw an array of fresh and soft cheeses. With the second, we saw cross-cultural appreciation of creaminess and hints of blue marble. Now, with the third, we saw hardness, aging, and Italy’s best-kept secret food combination.

Northeast Italy is made up of four regions: Emilia-Romagna; Friuli-Venezia Giulia, Trentino-Alto Adige; and Veneto.

This was an interesting cheese plate to create. It was simple, rustic, highly cheese-focused in comparison to the others. It was also the easiest to make (it took longer to pick out a wine than it did finding the cheeses). I was quite proud of the fact that, one, I was able to find all four region’s cheeses and, two, they all have PDO/DOP status. You may also notice that there were only three pairings on the plate along with the cheeses. This is because every cheese could be and was paired with vinegar or honey. The Grana Padano was also eaten with olives, just to be different.

This was also the first cheese plate that the wine went beautifully with all four cheeses and the pairings. The wine was a 2011 Allegrini Palazzo della Torre, from the Veneto region. It is a lovely wine, with a balance in sweetness and fullness that isn’t overpowering and absolutely luscious in between bites of cheese dipped in honey or balsamic vinegar.

From Emilia-Romagna came the fantastic and infamous Parmigiano-Reggiano. It’s a popular cheese here (as in, it completely fills an entire shelf unit in Eataly’s cheese department), and has similar notes to Parmesan or Grana Padano (strong flavors, a great pasta/topping cheese). A sharp cheese with a sweet end-note, it brings a smoky, almost spicy finish to any dish you can think of. CK and I thought the combination of this cheese with the honey was a match made in heaven. This was the secret I was telling you about. Pairing honey with this cheese was something of a cheese nirvana moment for me, sort of like the apple and peanut butter in the dairy world. And we all know how much I love that combination.

Montasio represented Friuli-Venezia Giulia. It’s a very mild cheese with a tantalizingly rounded aroma that reminded us of a mild swiss. This cheese is very similar to Trentino’s Asiago, only less pungent just slightly harder. It went beautifully with both pairings. Alas, I believe I was turned around in taking the photos, as I photographed the Montasio twice… Anyway, Asiago is quite the surprise. It has a similar aroma to Gruyere, only more mild in pungency and spicier.

Finally, Veneto’s Grana Padano, another popular cheese. Like Parmigiano-Reggiano, it had its own shelving unit stock-full of huge wedges. It isn’t a strong as the other cheese, but it does have a sharp quality that is more savory than it was sweet. When paired with honey, the cheese seemed to take on the sweetness as its own flavor, becoming a sort of honey fudge to me. It was delicious and rather rich, but we both felt that the vinegar paired significantly better with it.

I noticed that there was a spectrum to the pairings’ compatibility. We tried the cheeses with both the vinegar and the honey separately, sipping on the wine in between. Two of the cheeses excelled with both pairings equally (Montasio and Asiago), while the other two remained loyal team-vinegar (Grana Padano) or team-honey (Parmigiano-Reggiano) through and through.

So although it wasn’t necessarily the prettiest cheese plate, it was a satisfying one nonetheless.

When in Rome, make a Cheese Plate (Part II of V)

With two cheese plates down, I’ve reflected on national pride. National pride looks different to different people. Sometimes it’s a flag, an ethnic identity, an ideological belief. Sometimes, it’s a standard of living, a way of living, and a job well done.

With Italy, I’ve come to see much of the country’s national pride in the food.

I’m amazed by the cheeses here. Each region, sometimes down to a specific village or town, has a cheese to be proud of. Each region has a heritage, and a responsibility to uphold such a proud lineage of gastronomic proportions. The cheeses, and the wines, tell a story of where they come from, often with something special to remember them by. I will always savor how Mozzarella di Bufala Compana tastes, by itself and with quality balsamic vinegar. I will always appreciate Scamorza affumicata’s smokiness, or how the Northwest Cheese Plate brought with it a new-found appreciation for blue cheeses.

Before I go into describing this cheese plate, I must say that how Europe treats and views food is a breath of fresh air that I hope the United States will completely embody one day. I think we have lost our national pride in foods that goes beyond wines. Sure, we joke about the Midwest deep fat frying everything, or how California is one big vineyard, or New York’s bagels, or Chicago’s deep-dish pizza, or Appalachia being moonshine central, or, in my home state Virginia, the honey-baked ham. We have a history of food beyond the stereotypes, and I think the country has lost that pride with the replacement of factory processing and quantity over quality. We hide where food comes from, mostly because various corporations don’t want us to know. And while I agree in keeping a sanitary production of everything food related, I believe we’ve removed the humanity in what we eat. Almost everything I’ve eaten in Malta, although it is more so in Rome, tells the consumer exactly where it comes from on the label, sometimes down to the individual farm and the address. That’s a 'think global, act local’ mentality that I wish every place in the world included in its national pride, and something I think will be incorporated into my country’s pride in the near future.

Northwest Italy is made up of the following administrative regions: Aosta Valley (Valle d’Aosta); Lombardy (Lombardia); Piedmont (Piemonte); and Liguria. Every region either touches France or Switzerland, so there is likely some cross-national cuisine action going on or an Alpine culture that combines the neighboring regions’ cuisines into something spectacular (for example, the national languages in Valle d’Aosta are Italian and French). But each region is singular and individual, with different species of grapes that become fantastic wines, local languages, and cuisine specialties (Liguria is famed for being the original place of pesto, an important and very popular sauce throughout Italy as a whole).

It was hard to find the cheeses I was hoping to highlight, but with Eataly boldly labeling the regions of where their cheeses came from, I made do with what was there. Liguria was the hardest region to find a cheese, although from my research it seemed like blue goat cheese was something that came from there and so I found Erborinato di Capra as a substitute. We did find a wine that came from the Ligurian region (a DOC to boot), however, so I hope that will make up for it.

Because the cheeses turned out to be primarily pungent, soft, and two of them blue, the pairing suggestions tended to focus on fruits, nuts, and either fruity reds or semi-sweet to dry white wines. The Scamorza affumicata, on the other hand, didn’t feel like a ‘wine’ cheese; rather, it was something to be eaten on its own or being part of a dish where the food, not the wine, was the focus. The wine we purchased was a Durin Pigato DOC Riviera Ligure di Ponente Pigato 2013. It is a dry white, soft and round on the tongue, full-bodied and a distinguished as well as pleasant bitter background. Even though I tend to drink reds, I would recommend this wine to drink by itself or as an accompaniment to any dish with pesto or goat cheese.

Valle d’Aosta is known for Fontina, a cheese with PDO status. In the States, Fontina tends to be milder than what I purchased. The original stuff is quite pungent and intense, and the nectarine we paired it with seemed to lessen its bitterness. The wine paired nicely with it, rounding the sweetness of the nectarine and balancing the intensity of the cheese’s aftertaste. I wasn’t a fan of the cheese by itself, preferring to have the pungency be an accent to a dish instead of being prominent.

While Scamorza is typically known as a cheese produced in the south of Italy, Lombardia is also known for making the cheese. Like mozzarella, it is a pasta filata (or stretched curd) cheese, so it is easy to replace mozzarella with it in recipes. Scamorza affumicata is the smoked version, and one of our go-to cheeses when it’s offered. Although we typically get the pre-packaged kind, Eataly has a mozzarella station neighboring the cheese monger. They were offering fresh scamorza affumicata, so how on earth could we refuse? We tried a small slice before putting on the cheese plate, marveling in how different it tasted from what we usually ate. It had a sourer note, not as salty, but adding sea salt to it balanced the flavors quite nicely (CK also thinks it would have gone well on a bed of spicy Italian arugula, and I agree wholeheartedly).

As I said, Scamorza doesn’t seem to be the cheese plate sort of cheese, in that the cheese can be eaten on its own or as part of a dish, and the dish itself being paired with an appropriate wine. In this case, it was a “take it, or leave it” sort of deal with the white wine.

We picked Blu di Langa to represent Piemonte, and I was excited to try this cheese. Initially, I was hoping to find Castelmagno (a cheese with PDO status), but it was extremely hard to find. But when I saw the cheese through the display window, I thought it would be interesting to have two blue cheeses* to taste the differences. I was also looking for Gorgonzola specifically from that region (or Lombardy), but to no avail. But this cheese was a pleasant surprise, since I’m a bit cautious with blue cheeses in general. If you can imagine Brie that has blue veins, mostly mild and creamy with a little intensity per bite… oh yes, I was in heaven with this cheese. We paired this with golden apple slices, and it was a beautiful combination. I could imagine this cheese being used in a cheesecake, or on a bagel paired with a fig spread.

The wine went deliciously with the cheese, complementing the flavorful blue veins with something sweet and the creamy texture with a fruity sharpness that came with the combination. This was my favorite food, cheese, and wine pairing.

Finally, Eborinato di Capra to represent Liguria, and both CK’s and my favorite cheese on the board. It was milder than the Fontina, buttery and soft. And the blue veins were not bitter; rather, they were slightly sharp and gave you this pleasant surprise of flavor that was just enough without being overwhelming. We tried pairing it with the grapes (meh...), but in all honesty, this was a great “I stand alone” cheese with the possibility of some crunch with a good cracker. It was like that with the wine as well. It didn’t need to be paired with anything. It was heaven in its own right. 

This was a more challenging cheese plate to put together, since many of the cheeses (two of four) had to be picked on the fly, but like the first it was a delight to research the regions and their contributions to their country’s cuisine.


*A note on blue cheese and the gluten free diet:

From Tricia Thompson’s (MS, RD) (2011) “Blue Cheese” article: “In 2009 The Canadian Celiac Association tested 3 blue cheeses and 2 penicillium roqueforti cultures grown on a variety of gluten-containing media, including wheat-based dextrose, barley malt extract, and wheat/rye flour mixture. Results indicate that the gluten content is below the limit of quantification in these products using both the Sandwich R5 ELISA and the Competitive R5 ELISA (29).” For more information on this study, click here.

Now, while tests have been done and have shown that gluten content in blue cheese production is either low enough on both ELISA scales or quite possibly non-existent, I do urge people who are extremely sensitive to such miniscule amounts of gluten to do research and proceed with caution when eating blue cheeses in general. As far as I am aware, the Blu di Langa and the Eborinato di Capra are gluten free cheeses, and were safe for me (in that, I didn’t have a reaction, which tends to come on within a few hours of ingesting non-Morri friendly foods). But please be safe and follow your intuition with foods that are on the fence on such things.

Yerba Mate Chai Drop Scones

To all the mothers out there, especially my own:

I didn’t get you a card this year, and I didn’t get you flowers. On Saturday, we got pedicures and talked about life. On Sunday I made you breakfast: freshly brewed cappuccino with a revised version of the Yerba Mate Chai Scones and hardboiled eggs. We went food shopping for the week and talked about work and school. 

No Hallmark card or flower bouquet can ever describe how much you mean to me. Not even this blog post will do you justice.

I honor you every day of the year, and I thank you for all you have done for me.

My mother (known as Mama Dazz on this side of cyber space) has been supportive of everything I’ve set out to do, especially where my health and spirituality is concerned, including Meals with Morri. She has eaten a few of the recipes I’ve posted, and countless others that have yet to be recorded. She provides constructive criticism on what she liked about the meal, and what would make it better. 

I learned from her what it means to keep going, to hold on to the things you believe in, and to let go of the things that hold you back. She encouraged me to pursue a plethora of creative outlets, and I excelled in various forms of writing, drawing, and cooking.

She tells me she’s proud of me every day, and asks me “How did I get so lucky to have a daughter like you?”

She answers my questions with thoughtful and loving answers:

“If you were to describe my cooking style, be it regional or international,” I asked her when I made a particularly unique meal on Thursday, “what would you call it?”

“Metro fusion,” she said, “because your style is influenced by the many dinner tables of the international families you grew up with.”

Mama Dazz is a woman that works hard, loves many, and likes flamingos as much as I like bunnies.

I am so lucky and blessed to have her in my life.

So to all you mothers out there, those who are, those who will be, and those who’ve been, I honor you and wish you well. 

Yerba Mate Chai Drop Scones, (the revised version*) 

*As I mentioned in the previous scone recipes, I was fairly content with the end result, about 80 – 85%. I decided to try Ruhlman’s biscuit ratio, the same one I used with the bisckies, and the outcome was significantly better. I had to make them drop scones like Lauren had done with hers because the dough wasn’t pliable. And because my mother requested it, half were decorated with dried cranberries on top.

There is a slight bitterness at the end because of the quinoa flour, so I recommend substituting it with rice flour or adding an ounce to one of the flours listed. The Yerba Mate was steeped for much longer this time (over 24 hours) and sweetened with agave nectar. Vanilla was added to this recipe and really brought out the other flavors in the scones.

2 oz Tapioca starch
2 oz Amaranth flour
2 oz Millet flour
1 oz Quinoa (or another flour should you wish)
1 oz Coconut flour
1 oz Almond meal
2 tsp. Baking powder
1/2 tsp. Sea salt
1/2 tsp. Cinnamon
1/4 tsp. Nutmeg
1 tsp. Vanilla
1 Egg
1.5 oz Ripened avocado
1.5 oz Coconut oil, room temperature or melted
4 oz Yerba Mate, steeped for 24 hours and sweetened to your preference
2 oz So Delicious unsweetened coconut milk

Preheat the oven to 400ºF.
In a medium-sized mixing bowl, combine the flours, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla.
Put the avocado, coconut oil, egg, coconut milk, and Yerba mate into a blender on low until there is an even consistency.
Using a wooden spoon, combine the wet and dry ingredients until the dough forms (It will be fluffy and light.
On a baking sheet lined with parchment paper (or greased), drop the dough into rounds using a 1/3 measuring cup and spoon.
Put dried cranberries or nuts on top (or throughout) and bake for 30 – 35 minutes.

Makes 6 scones.

Happy Belated Mothers Day, Mama Dazz.