In beginning my scone amble this afternoon, my eye was caught by the sign over Pemberton Farms, near Davis Square, advertising baked goods, among other things. I decided not to be a snob and wandered in. And, ah me, shelf after shelf of specialty foods awaited. Glistening rows of over-priced luxury food. Brandy butter, fig jam, little tubs of designer ice cream...all of this building in my mind the excitement for what kind of scones they might have at the bakery counter.
I might've forgiven them the fact that there was only one scone left (it was 4 o'clock). And I might've even bought that lonesome triangle of dough except for one thing. I asked the girl at the counter who made their scones for them. Reply: Um, yeah, we get them, and then we bake them here, kind of like a batter thing. I nodded my head sagely, as if that was a clear reply. Then I slowly backed away from the counter and flounced out of the store.
But I will say that Pemberton Farms has one of my favorite jams, from Sarabeth's in NYC.
Is it just me, or is there not something immensely comforting about a wall of jam? Not to be deterred, I went to Porter Square Bookstore, on the tip that Cafe Zing! sold good scones. The last few times I passed by, there was a line out the door of people ganging up for coffee; a promising sign! I lucked out today, as there was only a modest crowd, and I wormed my way up to the counter, to see several tempting scones, with a reassuring sign that indicated who actually made those bad girls (Petsi Pies). For slightly under $5 I sidled away with a berry scone, butter, and a small glass of peach iced tea.
There are worse ways to spend an afternoon, I realized, biting into a cakey, soft scone, inundated with fat berries, little bursts of purple, blue, and raspberry staining a cream yellow crumb. The taste was excellent, not too sweet and not too tangy. The dusting of powdered sugar was just right, and with a little ice tea, the entire thing went down my gullet post haste.
Appearance: Quite nice. Put it on a nice plate, in the middle of a British meadow, and it
would be fit for Alice in Wonderland.
Accoutrement: Two pats of butter chucked in the bag.
Grade: A (If they'd served clotted cream and put it on a pretty plate, this tasty jewel
would've made it to an A+)