It was Immaculate Conception Day and we had school off.  We suddenly had time to do some baking.  Baking is a job that I happily set aside for my Husband.  He is happy to do it with the children.  Me?  I'd love some bonding time with them.  But baking with the children is just a daunting task for me.  It always takes  longer when children are involved.  And I almost always get impatient. There are just so many other things that need to be done. I can't spare the extra time. But today was different.

I have been meaning to bake something with cranberries since the latter are in season.  I wanted to make some cranberry muffins.  But I just did not have the chance to make them.  Then, Frugal in WV posted in FB a recipe  for a cranberry and dark chocolate scone.  I just have to try that.  The combination of cranberry and dark chocolate is just irresistible.

 Oooops, a sassy cranberry has been bugging me  the entire day.  She wants to tell the baking story.  So I relinquish the floor, err, blog to her. 

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So, this is my life story.  This is my  quest for meaning.  

One morning, while I was happily resting after a bath,  

 a mother and her three little children came.  The mother started distributing us among her children who were all armed with a little shiny knife.  I wondered what they were up to. 

The little one decided that I was tasty and started putting me in his mouth.    The others said  "yewwww.  Soourrr."  I did not mind - they just did not know what they were  saying.

 Uh-uh! Ouch! Ouch! My flesh started to hurt, terribly.  I cried for help.  But no one came.  

Where is  PETA when it is most needed?  "You do not count", I heard a voice said.   "But but but, don't you think being sliced is not  utterly cruel and inhuman?  I hurt too - you just do not hear me scream and yowl and meow. Them animals! They let out a lot of methane.  They make global warming.  We? We poor cranberries.  We give you oxygen.  Oxygen! And there is no one on our side!  Sigh... it is time to make a PETV.   No, no no.   Not People for Ethical TV, but People for Ethical Treatment of Vegetables.  I'm not? PETF then."

"Faith?  ...for the ethical treatment of faith?", said a smart alecky voice. 

Argh! Whatever.  

Some of my brethren have been separated from the rest of us.  I wondered why.  The mother told her children that those cranberries were rotten and no good.  What is better - being rotten and safe or being good and have our fate? 

I had no time to ponder on my existential question because pretty soon, I felt something  pouring on my head or what was left of it.   Mmmm, sugar. I would have a coat of sugar.  Just about time for some sweetness and consolation, I said to myself.

Then I heard some pounding.    

Oh, poor chocolate chips.  They were  getting chipped.  I was glad to note that I have not lost my sense of humor.  Apparently, they could not chop the chips so they hammered on it.

That boy in green had been doing a lot of work.  He did not even stop to snack like his brothers did.   I would have liked him if he did not tear me to pieces.    Meanwhile, the big one seemed to have been lost in that railroad game.  But the mother's too busy to notice and I would definitely not tell her.

Oh wait,  the little one is back!  He helped pour the flour into the bowl.  Then sugar and baking powder and salt ......

 ..... and lots and lots of butter were added to it.   

 Uh-oh.  That boy is smooshing everything.   Am I glad that I am not that flour.  

Psst... I got a little gossip here.  This boy was banished for  sometime  because he tipped the flour on his shirt and made a mess.  His Mommy was not pleased. I tell yah! 

After all that pounding, that flour turned to eeny weeny clumps.  Then it was time for ignored-me to be dumped.  Alas, such was my fate.  HURT me,  IGNORE  me, DUMP me.  (I think my other name is  ham.  I deliver my lines so well). 

But I was in good company.  Chocolate came after me and we were mixed in the flour. 

We were thirsty....

... and we were given eggnog! Yey! Nah... it was just  some mixture of egg and cream. 

Then came my favoritest part.  We got so sticky, so sticky that she had so much trouble laying us out.  It was a little miracle that  she did not lose it.  She did not like this part so much. 

She managed to cut us all up anyway.  And she gave us some make-up.  Eggwhites, that's all.  We were almost ready for our closeup.

We just needed a little shower of sugar.  

And we were all set.  Good luck, lady.   I hoped that  her  work would turn out right.

I was not quite sure, I was stuck inside the oven when this happened, but I thought that the little boy in green helped clean-up too.  That really made his mother happy.  She was already wondering about all the sticky mess on the countertops and in the bowls.  That boy was truly helpful.

Don't we just look good?  We now have golden brown coating - crunchy outside, soft and moist inside.  

mmmmmmmm, come savor aroma  of freshly baked scones... taste the exquisite flavors of cranberry and chocolate.... 

Yike!  How rude! I was dunked in turkey broth.

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Oh well.  He ate his lunch.  He was happy.  Tummies have been happy. So, despite my woes, I too was happy. 

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Thank you for bearing with some silly stuff.  If you are interested in the recipe, you can find it here.  

Best regards,

Imelda