Gluten-Free Irish Scones
A bonus recipe + an excerpt from ADILV
Inside my debut novel, A Daisy in Lily’s Valley, I crafted six original recipes that I inserted towards the back of the book. It was really really challenging narrowing down all the recipes mentioned inside the novel to just a handful. So I thought that today, it might be fun to share a bonus recipe not found in the book, but one that has quickly become a favorite in our household!
Along with the recipe, I wanted to share a small excerpt from the chapter that bears its name. This chapter is extra special, not only because Irish scones + butter = perfection, but because this chapter is the latest addition to my novel. It only came after I had sent off and recieved feedback from my beta readers. But it is such an incredibly powerful chapter within Emiliana’s narrative.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy this sneak peek + recipe afterwards.
Irish Scones
The end of spring was near and the ultimate proof sat in my bike’s front basket: a delicately arranged spray of freshly picked lily of the valley flowers, their stems settled inside a water filled glass jar. Next to them sat a box wrapped in a cloth napkin that I hoped would protect it from the rain.
Prior to embarking on my dreary bike ride, I’d spent my morning safely cocooned within the walls of my kitchen. From there, I had watched the sky turn grey then erupt into a soft patter of rain on the windowpane. It seemed to me that the universe had woken up with the same heaviness as weighed on my own heart.
Hopping off my bike, I walked it down the winding path beneath the old oak trees. My legs dragged behind me, heavy as lead, each step a monumental task. I couldn’t tell if I was crying or if my cheeks were stained with the fat droplets falling from the leaves rustling above me. Even though my hands were cold and my shoes soaked through as I stepped in puddle after puddle, the sadness filling me was stronger than the discomfort. It was as if the pain had pushed all other sensations from my body, enveloping me whole.
Numbly, I retrieved my jar of flowers and cloth-wrapped package, allowing my bike to fall to the side in the plump grass. I knelt in front of the gravestones, not caring that my legs would soon grow cold and wet as water seeped through the cloth of my pants.
“Hi Grandma. Hi Dad,” I choked out. “I know, it’s been awhile.”
Three months to be exact. What had started out as near-daily visits had steadily dwindled throughout the years. After my father’s passing, I’d beg my mother to bring me every day after school to visit him and again on weekends where I’d spend hours crying with my back against his gravestone. It wasn’t long before she refused to bring me, no doubt overwhelmed with my unmanageable grief.
The task in bringing me soon turned to my grandmother. She’d already been visiting her son daily, oftentimes in the early mornings, but she made no complaints in bringing me in the afternoons as well. She held me close as I fell apart, stroking my hair and telling me stories of when my father was young. We kept up our daily visits for years, often coming to tell him all about the silly baking antics we were up to.
And then there was the fire. And the move to Lightley. And my grandmother’s own parting. Then the time came for me to go off to university. It all happened in such quick succession and the grief was so overwhelming I felt I needed to leave. To break away, lest it drown me.
So, my visits to the cemetery grew less frequent, but they never ceased. Instead, I’d come around during the changing of the seasons when everything felt in flux.
I set the jar and box next to me and reached out to touch each stone, slick and cold. I swallowed my tears as I drew my hand back, shakily untying my cloth-covered box.
“I brought you something.” I reached into the rain-splattered box. My cloth really hadn’t protected it from the journey in the rain at all. “One of our favourites. Irish scones.”
I stopped, unable to get the words past the lump rising in my throat. Tears stung my eyes as they forcefully tried to break free. While pulling out the assortment I’d put together for today, I deepened my breathing. I laid out a small, chequered blanket that had been folded at the bottom of my basket and placed the scones on top. A Y-shaped twig propped up the box to cover them. Next to those, I placed a small glass pot of clotted cream followed by an identical pot of jam and a wax-paper-wrapped dab of Irish butter.
“The best butter in the entire world,” my grandmother had often proclaimed. She’d always had a big block of it hidden away in the back of her fridge.
“I keep it hidden back here because your dad has quite a taste for it,” she’d once told me. “He loves to use it in everything, and for good reason. It’s because—”
“It’s the best butter in the entire world,” I’d cut in, dutifully reciting her exact words and eliciting a smile from her.
“You were right, Grandma. You always were,” I said, looking directly at her stone.
I placed a butter drenched scone with extra jam beside her, allowing silent tears to stream down my cheeks. It was no use trying to keep them at bay any longer.
“And here’s one for you, Dad.” My voice cracked on the final word. Instead of one scone, I passed him two, one with extra cream, whispering, “I won’t tell her if you won’t.” I motioned to my grandmother’s grave, desperately trying to bring some form of levity to this moment. It wasn’t working.
GF Irish Scone Recipe
Ingredients:
50g Oat Flour
283g GF Flour
55g Irish butter (unsalted)
10g sugar
13g baking powder
2g salt
250ml whole milk
Zest + juice of 1 lemon
1 egg (optional)
Whisk together all the dry ingredients into a large bowl, and set aside.
Place your butter into a saucepan over medium-low heat. Melt the butter until it starts to turn brown and gives off a nutty aroma. Keep an eye out so that it doesn’t burn.
While the butter is browning, mix together milk, lemon zest, and lemon juice, and allow to sit for 10-15 minutes.
Remove the browned butter from the heat and allow it to cool for 5 minutes.
Once cooled, add your browned butter (don’t forget all the browned bits!) to the lemon and milk mixture.
Add milk mixture to the dry mix, and stir until just combined. Let sit for 10 minutes.
If after 10 minutes the mixture is pliable, move on to shaping your dough. If it still feels too wet, add a bit more oat flour. *Note—be careful not to add too much extra flour. GF dough is supposed to be much more wet than traditional floured dough. If you make it feel too much like traditional dough, your scones risk coming out really really dry.
On a sheet of parchment paper sprinkled with GF flour, roll out your dough until it is approx. 2,5cm (1”) thick. With a biscuit cutter or a floured cup rim, begin cutting out your scones.
Piece together any unused dough, and continue cutting out scones until you run out of dough entirely.
Chill your scones for 10-15 minutes. (Don’t skip this step, especially if you want your scones to hold their shape, unlike mine which fell a bit flat—still delicious, though!
Preheat oven to 205°C (400°F).
Optional: Lightly beat an egg, and brush the tops of the scones once they have cooled.
Once your scones have cooled, pop them into the oven for 18-20 minutes (or until top is golden brown).
Enjoy with an extra helping of decadent Irish butter, a sprinkle of salt, clotted cream, or a swipe of jam!
Until next time,
Brittani
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