The Scone of Life

It was a nondescript building—more like a shed actually—tucked behind a rehabbed diner. Marked by the smallest of signs and barely visible from the road, one could easily drive by and miss it altogether. In fact, I would have if my friend Carrie hadn’t guided me to its “secret” location.

She’d told much about this place, but honestly from the looks of it I prepared myself to be disappointed. Yet my opinion changed drastically when I stepped inside and took a breath. An aroma danced in the air inviting me to inhale again, deeply. The tantalizing scents ushered in an olfactory experience that led me to one conclusion.

I was in heaven.

While heaven smelled blissful, it looked strangely like triangular pastries. Sugar, flour, butter, raisins, coconut and other ingredients like berries, pears, pineapples, macadamia nuts, lemon, chocolate or figs masterfully combined and shaped, then sprinkled with sugar crystals and baked to golden perfection.

While my nose knew we’d arrived at the pearly gates, I ordered one just to make sure. Filled with anticipation, I took a bite. Sweet and flaky. Light and luxurious. Decadent and divine. A melody of tastes blended to create a savory symphony that inspired angels to sing. Really, I heard them.

Singing in scone heaven.

The good news is one can take paradise “to-go” because it’s sold as blocks of frozen dough ready to bake at home. Carrie stocked up on a bunch to give as gifts (because she’s an incredibly thoughtful person). I bought a bunch to hide in my freezer, and perhaps share with my husband (because, well, I’m not Carrie).

I am, however, like Pavlov’s dog at the thought of those little bundles of glory safely ensconced in my freezer. There are puddles of drool on my desk right now. Seriously. It's gross.

While frozen scone dough allows one to stockpile inventory, it provides the distinct disadvantage of being…um…frozen. Before it can be baked the dough must defrost overnight in the fridge or be left on the counter for an hour. Either way, the road to scone bliss is paved with advance planning. Not always an acceptable answer.

This is especially true when one experiences what Carrie has aptly named—the scone emergency! This crisis can be brought on by a wide range of experiences (PMS, a bad day at work, a fight with your spouse, frustration with your kids, being disappointed by a friend, stress about finances, the sun rising in the East, excessive thoughts of scones, etc.), but all bring on the same urgent plea. “Help! I need one now!”

Perhaps this is why God created the defrost setting on the microwave.

Now I’ve tasted and seen that the scone is good and life will never be the same again. I marvel at the restorative power and scrumptiousness that awaits in my freezer. (Please don’t even think the subpar offerings at your supermarket or even at Starbucks are anything other than scone blasphemy!)

This entire experience has led me to believe Biblical scholars made a serious error when translating Jesus’ teachings on baked goods. Surely the true meaning of the text springs to life with these “corrections”…

“I am the scone of life.” (John 6:48)

“I tell you the truth, you are looking for me, not because you saw miraculous signs but because you ate the fresh-from-the-oven scones and had your fill.” (John 6:26)

“I am the living scone that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this scone, he will live forever. This scone is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.” (John 6:51)

It’s kind of obvious, actually. A dry, crusty loaf… or warm, sweet, luscious perfection? The former leaves me grasping for the emotional and intellectual connection. And the latter inspires divine adoration and fills my heart with joy. Put in that context, hungering for righteousness is a no-brainer!

Perhaps I may be a bit off, but there is one thing of which I am 100% certain. After all this waxing nostalgic about heavenly pastries I feel a real emergency coming on.


P.S. If you feel I’ve crossed the line theologically, you obviously have never experienced these scones!

j. scones are made by renowned pastry chef Jodi Schad and are sold at her bake shop located at 4119 Swamp Road, Doylestown, PA. You can also buy them online at Williams and Sonoma. Or, you can drop by my house. (I will, of course, claim to have just run out.)