Meyer Lemon and Dried Strawberry Scones

While it's been bitter and brutally cold here in Chicago for the past few weeks (and about to get even colder), it must be warm someplace because some great citrus fruits have been showing up in my local produce market. Sweet Meyer lemons, tart blood oranges, and the usual array of grapefruits and oranges.

Last week I made macarons with Meyer lemons (which were pretty tasty), but this only used 2 out of the 4 that come in a bag. So I had more to use. And I also had some very tasty (and tart) sweetened dried strawberries that I picked up when traveling recently. This combination of two sweet-tart flavors seemed intriguing, so I decided to try them together in a scone for brunch this morning.

Scones are an odd genre because recipes range all over the map. Some are dry and flaky; others soft and spongy. Some are intended primarily as a delivery device for clotted cream or lemon curd; others are loaded with currants, nuts or other fruits. Some even have chocolate chips. The defining characteristic seems to be something that could plausibly be eaten with tea or coffee, and probably has some butter in it.

One of my favorite scone recipes for modifying with additions, though, has been one from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert. Her book is all about bringing out simple flavors from natural grains and sweeteners, so it's a bit ironic that the recipe works so well with additions. But it really does. It's also a unique scone recipe because she replaces some of the flour with stone-ground corn meal for a bit of coarseness and crunch. That coarseness seemed like an asset in this context.

Using her recipe as a starting point, I made a few simple modifications. I didn't have any buckwheat flour (which she calls for), so I used whole wheat instead. Plus I zested one of my Meyer lemons and mixed the zest into the sugar for the batter, and added about 3/4 cup of dried strawberries into the batter. I also used the juice of the Meyer lemon to make a thin powdered sugar glaze to lightly coat the tops.

The result was tasty, with some sweetness and tartness coming from both the lemon (glaze and zest) and the strawberries in their occasional bursts, and crunchiness from the corn mean. There's not a lot of sugar, so they weren't too sweet. I'd make them again, I think.

Here's the recipe (modified from Pure Dessert, by Alice Medrich):

1 egg
1/2 cup milk
1/4 cup heavy cream
1.5 cups (6 oz) all-purpose flour
1/3 cup whole wheat flour
1/3 cup stone-ground corn meal
1/3 cup sugar (mixed with the zest of 1 Meyer lemon)
2.5 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut in pieces
3/4 cup sweetened dried strawberries.

Whisk the egg with the milk and cream; set aside.

In a stand mixer with the paddle, mix the dry ingredients thoroughly and then add the butter a few pieces at a time. Mix at medium-low speed until the butter is broken down into small (pea-sized) pieces, but is still clearly visible. Stir in the dried strawberries.

Pour the wet ingredients over the dry and fold together with a rubber spatula until all the dry ingredients are just moist.

Gather the dough together, press any loose pieces into it, and put it on a floured surface (or Silpat). Press it into a disk about 3/4" thick. Slice into 8 wedges. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Place each wedge on a parchment-lined baking sheet and bake at 425 F for 10-13 minutes, until golden brown.

Prepare a glaze of 2-3 tablespoons Meyer lemon juice and 1 cup powdered sugar. Brush over the scones once partially cool.

Early Morning at Warorot Market

One of my favorite things to do when traveling, especially in the developing world, is to walk around markets. Often consisting only of a bunch of tables under a shelter of some sort, they become fascinating hives of activity: a butcher chopping up meat; coconut vendors pressing the bright white flesh of, well, coconuts; fishmongers whacking the heads off of fish; curry paste vendors pounding spices into curry pastes; and so on. They are also great windows into the local food culture. You can see what's in season, what snacks are being sold, to what extent every little bit of animals and plants (banana stem curry, anyone?) are being used, and so much more. I could (and do) walk walk around such markets for hours without getting bored.

 On my most recent trip to Chiang Mai, Thailand, I spent most of the days cycling with a relatively early-morning start. As the best food markets often happen in the morning, this mostly precluded wandering around food markets (though we did stop at one in a village one day on our bikes). I wanted to spend more time in a market, though, so I made plans to do so on my last day, before my noon flight.

I had been told that the biggest, and best, market in Chiang Mai is the Warorot Market, and that it opens extremely early. Perfect. I arranged for a tuktuk from my hotel at 6 am. While there is an actual building called Warorot Market, it is surrounded by vendors and across from another large market building. The tuktuk dropped me off in the midst of the area, but it was pretty quiet when I arrived before the sun came up. There were some stalls on the street with lights that seemed to have been selling fruits and flowers all night. But most of the indoor stalls were either covered up or sporadically starting to open.

Just inside the door of the main market building was a food stall clearly open, though, selling coffee, bao, and fried dough. A friendly woman behind the counter took one look at my tired, lost-looking, clearly foreign self and said "coffee?" I nodded and she poured me a cup, stirred in some sweetened condensed milk (as local coffee there is served), and set it down on her counter in front of a tool. I sat there, next to an older Thai man who was bantering with the woman behind the counter, and pointed to a tray of bao. She picked one for me, said "inside, prawn," I nodded, and she set it on a plate. After drinking the coffee and watching the steady stream of tired-looking customers, I paid the 20 bhat (about 60 cents) she asked for and walked back outside.



The sun wasn't yet visible, but the sky was starting to get lighter. Monks were walking around, and seemed to be leading small groups of people in some sort of prayer or offering ceremony. Vendors were now setting up in full force, with boxes and crates being moved around everywhere, trucks and motorbikes being unloaded, and stall doors being opened or uncovered. I walked past the fruit and flower vendors, and back into the market building. In this room there was a veritable sea of butchers. The next room was all about fish, fresh and dried. There were some people behind a fence (seriously) chopping coconuts.

Back out on the street, activity was picking up as well. Some people just spread their wares on blankets or banana leaves or folding tables. Others had more permanent stalls or carts. One woman sold bananas. Another had (grilled?) frogs on sticks. Several were making little sweet pancakes filled with fresh coconut milk (30 cents for 3; delicious). Another was selling a huge stack of crabs. As in much of the developing world, it seemed everybody had a project. And merchandise for sale. Now the sun was out and the market seemed to be genuinely open, though some of the cookware and clothing vendors were still opening. I started doing some shopping, to bring some things back to Singapore (which has fewer rules about importing food, compared to the US). I bought a bag of freshly pounded red curry paste from an older man and his wife, who wanted me to watch news of the Bangkok protests with them on their 10" CRT TV. This came in a tied plastic bag, so I also found a man who sold me a 10-cent plastic container so the curry paste would survive the flight. I bought a bag of dried chilies. Some spicy fish dip for green mango. A tiny little jar of some sort of chili paste. And "pun taeng," a limestone derivative often used in Thai cooking (also came in a bag; so I went back to 10-cent container man, who laughed and sold me another container). And picked up some dried fruit, tamarind and ginger, along with candy for my students.

I also wanted to eat some more. A fruit vendor had a bag of sliced green and sweet mango that I saved for my flight. I couldn't resist the mango and sticky rice vendor. And the slightly upscale espresso cart actually made a decent cappuccino.

In all, I wandered around the market for about 2 hours. As things opened, it was like a new market every time. When I left, it was pretty busy. Then I took a tuktuk back to my hotel (driving at one point through another market, filled mostly with pineapples, watermelons and coconuts), crammed my purchases into my bag, and headed to the airport.