Strawberry Pancakes

This is a public service announcement brought to you by the National Highway Traffic Safety Council. Well, kinda.

It was a typical Wednesday afternoon. I went to the grocery store like I do every Wednesday afternoon, picking up the usual fare with one exception—a watermelon. Spring was in the air, it was 50 degrees outside, and it seemed like a good decision. Especially since it was on sale.

After making my purchases, I packed the groceries in the backseat of the car and headed home. I like to drive slow with a car full of groceries because I don't want them to roll around and make a big mess of the backseat—it's a very big pet peeve of mine. As I was driving down a steep hill, the car in front of me stopped suddenly which meant that I stopped suddenly. It's a real shame my groceries didn't get the memo. They flew about the backseat like birds just released from a cage. And that precious watermelon of mine, the one that seemed like such a good idea only moments before, bounced out of the bag, off the seat, and managed to hit me straight in the side.

I was hit by a watermelon. In a car.

Explain the physics of that one to me.

After the initial shock of did-I-really-just-get-walloped-by-a-watermelon? wore off, I realized I had managed to puncture it with my elbow and it was now releasing watermelon juice at an alarming rate. As in getting-sticky-watermelon-juice-all-over-the-front-seat-of-my-car alarming. The orderly nature of my groceries had been shot to hell and my front seat was beginning to look like a gory crime scene.

I was peeved.

By the time I made it home, my only goal was to get that watermelon to the kitchen sink as fast as possible. It was a perfect plan except for one caveat—I'm clumsy. Yes, I managed to drop the wounded watermelon in the garage. Yes, it cracked open and shot watermelon juice everywhere. Yes, I had a second crime scene on my hands.

By the time I finally got it to the sink, it was in shambles—a shell of its former delicious self. So I did what any self-respecting person would do, I dug into the remains with a fork and cried over spilled watermelon. You would have too.

The moral of the story is to wear your seatbelt. You never know when you'll be hit by a flying watermelon. It's probably a good idea to buckle your watermelon in too.

Better yet, next time save yourself the trauma and buy strawberries instead.

These strawberry pancakes are light, fluffy, and thick. Packed with strawberries, you'll have a burst of berry flavor in every bite (which is a welcome sight when you're desperate for spring). The pancakes are not overly sweet, so you have the power to control how sweet you'd like your breakfast. I enjoyed these drizzled with a little honey and maple syrup. These pancakes make for a lovely spring brunch.

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Orange Scones

I can't believe this is my 100th post. I've shared 100 recipes, 100 stories, and well over 100 photographs with you. It doesn't seem like it can be possible! I want to thank all of you for your advice, comments, and inspiration to keep finding new things to bake! Thanks for sticking around so long. You, dear reader, make sharing my life and recipes worthwhile.

To celebrate, I decided to tackle a pastry that has alluded me for a very long time—scones. I have never made a successful scone (this is my shameful secret). Some people are afraid of making macarons or croissants. I'm terrified of making scones. I tried to make chocolate chip scones (on more than one occasion), but they turned into inedible, tasteless rocks the second they popped out of the oven. I made pear scones that were so awful I could hardly stomach a bite. I tried buttermilk scones that were so dry even jam couldn't save them.

The list goes on.

In my efforts to make an edible scone, I brushed up on the different types of recipes. I learned there are two different types of scones—the American scone and the English scone. The American scone tends to be larger, drier, and much sweeter than its European counterpart. The European scone is often light and flaky like a biscuit and barely sweetened. With my history of bone-dry scones, I thought the European method might be just the ticket for me.

I was right. This recipe right here produced my first successful scone. They aren't just edible; they taste fantastic. I've had two taste-testers ask me for the recipe already.

Consider my fear of scones conquered.

These orange scones are bright and full of citrus flavor. The scone is moist, light, and flaky. I would say the texture is somewhere between a biscuit and American scone. The orange flavor really shines through on these scones. I would recommend glazing them because it helps to balance out the lightly sweetened scones. I think these scones are a little reminder that spring is on its way.

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Poached Eggs in Tomato Sauce

I don't do well with scary movies. In many ways, I'm the person scary movies were designed for. My fear is real. It doesn't matter if the film is about a mad man, zombies, or a haunted house—in every case, I'll want to sleep with the lights on (if I can sleep at all).

My first introduction to scary movies was the movie Signs (and, really, it's not even intended to be a scary film). During the final scenes, I literally hid beneath the couch cushions with my eyes shut tight and my hands over my ears. Up until that point, Disney villains marked my experience with frightening scenes. I had much to learn.

Despite the fact that I shouldn't watch scary movies, this weekend my mother and I rented the movie Rose Red, based on Stephen King's novel of the same name. It's a four hour mini-series (meaning four hours of pure terror for me) in which a group of people with psychic powers spend the night in a haunted house. It didn't matter that the special effects were cheesy, half the ghosts/bad guys were puppets, and the storyline didn't always make sense—I was genuinely afraid.

I hid my eyes when the scary music started, regardless of whether or not something scary was actually happening. I jumped at all the right moments. Halfway through, I shut the doors leading to the room, just in case something happened to sneak in when I wasn't looking. My mother had to repeatedly tell me that "it's not real, calm down" when I'd start to get jumpy. Three hours in, I had to shut off the movie because I couldn't handle the fear, much to my mother's dismay.

I told you I don't do well with scary movies. Maybe I should start watching them in the middle of the day.

These poached eggs in tomato sauce make a perfect light breakfast or lunch (and eggs look like suns, which is something I desperately want to see after a night of scary movies). Tomatoes compliment the eggs in an unexpected way. Serve with a side of veggies for a balanced meal. Alternatively, if you have leftover spaghetti sauce from the evening before, top poached or scrambled eggs with it and achieve the same effect. Simple, yet delicious!

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