Hestia is baking scones. And binning them.

I am very partial to a fruit scone, with clotted cream and strawberry jam. Very partial indeed *pats tummy* but also rather keen to cut down on processed foods. I would, I decided in a fit of culinary madness, bake my own scones.

How hard could it be? 

Reader, the first couple of times they were gorgeous! Light as a feather and I felt my full Hestia-potentiality might AT LAST be realised. If this is what I could do with plain flour with added baking powder, how marvellous might my scones be if I actually used SELF-RAISING FLOUR?! At this point you may laugh hollowly at my naive, beginner's optimism.

Thus I purchased a small bag of self-raising flour and set to work. 

I baked a batch on Friday (Tartarus was away for the weekend with his boyfriend) and I thought I'd have a little bout of domestic goddessness.  Not only did they refuse to rise, they remained resolutely doughy inside.

I would also like to tell you that I put the failed scones straight in the bin, but they actually went straight into my tummy. Cue stomach-ache, but not enough to make me put the rest of the scones into the bin. I am a waste-not-want-not kind of a gal.

Anyhoo, yesterday (Sunday) I finally gave up and put the final scones into the bin.

Today, Tartarus is BACK (from the NI road racing) with a vengeance and doing all the housework that his slut of a partner failed to do (correctly. Or just failed to do. Which is more likely). I would, I thought again, make him happy with me by making scones. This would prove that I was good for something.

Wrong.

The scones again failed to rise and I just took their pale, flat, flabby bodies from the oven, let them cool down and tipped them straight into the swing bin. He said nothing, but I felt as if my failure with the scones was just confirming to him that I was indeed generally fucking useless.

Actually, I'm being pretty unfair on him. He DOESN'T think I'm useless. I can practically promise you that as soon as I am out of his eyeline he doesn't have a single thought about me at all.

Which I hope one day to play to my advantage in some as-yet-unforseen way.

I digress! Back to the scones. I don't know what I did wrong. My hands are cold. I barely touched the mix to draw it all together. I remembered all the ingredients .... I wonder ..... My wondering took me back to the kitchen (now cleaned up by the Mrs Mop that is Tartarus after any kind of break: see any kind of post that I made after any of his trips abroad for work) and lo! I hauled out the flour. And. Yes. You guessed it. I have been using the PLAIN flour and not the self-raising flour.

I'll have another go this afternoon with the right flour, but am not looking forward to telling Tartarus that I know where my mistake was made. If anything will underscore what a useless bit of humanity I am, it is admitting that I have used the wrong flour - not once, but twice.

Promise to post pix of some DECENT scones. Assuming that I make some!

Hestia and Spring

I am hesitant to say this, just in case Mama Nature decides to throw storms or snow all over the west coast in a fit of pique, but today feels a bit like Spring.

It's just coming up to the Easter weekend and yeah, it feels quite nice outside really.

Feeling Nice Outside means that I have to don my gardening jacket and get out there and do something in the garden. Which isn't really fun because the soil is still bloody cold to work with.

Anyhoo - I had to get four plants into the front garden before they reported me to Monty Don for cruelty (been waiting - in the kitchen - to be planted for a fortnight) and so today was the day for getting them in.

In other news, here are some photos of a lovely pot that I have at the front door.

Crammed with goodies from Farmer Gracy (can recommend - quality bulbs for sure!) We have Blue Eyes hyacinths, tiny turkestanica tulips and the foliage for the Rasta Parrot tulips and the Pheasant Eye narcissus are all up and looking lovely.

Almost feeling like the garden could look nice this year.

Almost.