Scone City

Some may call it the Rainy City, the Emerald City, or the Jet City, but around here, we call it like we see it: Seattle is the Coffee Capitol. To say that Seattlites love their lattes is a gross understatement. Without coffee, it’s unlikely that much would happen in this rainy, emerald city, and there would undoubtedly be fewer jets. But while much has been said of our noble brew, less has been noted of its companions, the muffins, scones, donuts, buns, bagels, breads, and biscotti that accompany it down the gullet. Next to every great cup of coffee belongs a great pastry, and Seattlest aims to deliver.

While pastries can certainly be bought at every corner coffee shop, the worthy ones are elusive, and the wise will retreat to the kitchen. Muffins are easy enough, and those black-skinned bananas are already halfway to banana bread, but when we think breakfast pastry, most often we think scones. Sturdier than muffins and less sickly sweet than the bulk of its pastry case comrades, this cousin of the biscuit is the best thing for dunking in our steamy morning mug. We like to think of scones as a deliciously blank slate, not too sugary or sloppy with butter, filled with flaky nooks and crannies for nearly any fruit, nut, or flavoring we send its way, orange zest to lemon, currants to dried cherries, almonds to hazelnuts.

With a mere half-hour and a pair of floury hands, our kitchen can churn out a week’s worth of breakfasts—or, as comes in handy, a very handsome holiday gift to be packed in a tin or tucked in a suitcase. By this third week of December, no one needs another Christmas cookie, but everyone still needs breakfast. By our accounting, that makes this one of the rare holiday gifts that can actually claim to be useful. Come Christmas morning, we’ll be there with a warm pan of scones—assuming, of course, that you provide the coffee.

Ginger-Pistachio Scones

They are classic Scottish scones, akin to a dense but delicate biscuit. If you like an unapologetically buttery scone, the type that leaves your fingers greasy, move on: these scones will very happily accept a finishing crown of butter, but they don’t foist it upon you with each mouthful. The template for this recipe comes from the sister of Seattlest Molly, who makes a half-dozen different scone varieties each Christmas. Our favorite incarnation calls for a good, hearty handful of puckery candied ginger and a smattering of sweet, nutty pistachios. Against a cold morning and a room full of wrapping paper debris, the warm, bracing bite of ginger is most welcome.