scones

I've always found scones to be disappointing.

I liked the idea of them, but more often then not, they were dry, tasteless, and best avoided.  Even at their most edible, they were merely a delivery device for jam and/or clotted cream.

Despite my reluctance to order them, I've had a whole bunch of scones in my day - from teahouses in Santa Monica to teahouses in the UK, and plenty of cafes, bakeries, grocery stores, and home kitchens in between.  The things just keep on presenting themselves, like occasional reminders from the universe that life contains its share of bland disappointments.

But then I went to Diner in Williamsburg, and while we were still reading through the menu, my friend Andrew Shapiro (the composer) ordered a scone for the table.

The Diner scone was a revelation.  It was everything a scone should be, and everything every previous scone hadn't been: moist and delicious, and yet somehow still a scone.

Before we had finished eating it, I was thinking about ordering a second.  I was also insisting that the people at the table next to ours order scones.

And now I guess I'm here on this blog insisting that you try Diner's scone, too.  Not just because it's really worth eating, but because it's proof that the way things have always been is not the way things must always be.  And that's a little reminder we could all use now and then.  Especially if it comes in pastry form.