I have a recipe for you! But first, story time:

Panic Attacks in the Minivan

Towards the end of my sixth grade year, my anxiety got so bad that I couldn’t get out of the car when my mom tried to drop me off at school in the morning. I was having full-blown panic attacks—like, sitting in the passenger’s seat of my family’s Dodge Caravan, literally unable to breathe or stop crying—so my mom pulled me out of school and home-schooled me for a year.

As far as “schooling” went, she did her best. We both pretended for a little while that we were serious about practicing algebra, but I am my mother’s daughter, through and through, and neither of us were truly interested in getting our heads out of the clouds. Honestly, trying—unsuccessfully— to “get my head out of the clouds,” was part of the reason I was having panic attacks at the age of eleven. The perfectionist and people-pleaser in me was desperate to fit into the societal structures (like standardized school, socialization in peer groups, etc.) I was being crammed into, but the empathic artist in me was flipping the f*ck out about it.

I doubt my mother knew any of this, but I don’t doubt that she felt it.

Reading Jane Austen and Baking Cookies

Instead of forcing me to study fractions or memorize the periodic table—which would almost immediately trigger my anxious response—mom let me lead. I ended up spending the majority of my time reading Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters, and baking cookies. I taught myself how to play guitar. I composed songs on the piano. I wrote poetry. The only social time I really had was in ballet class, but ballet is such a personal, quiet discipline, that it felt safe and familiar.

That year at home changed my life. I was a sensitive, empathic, emotionally overwhelmed kid who craved time to process my transition into adolescence. I needed permission to hit pause on all the “shoulds,” and let the authentic longings of my heart surface. My body was changing, my relationships were becoming more complex, and my nervous system was completely overwhelmed. My little kid self was rapidly evaporating. I needed to become acquainted with the new self that was emerging, and make sure I was headed in a direction that aligned with my soul.

Having the freedom to “let the soft animal of my body love what it loves,” as Mary Oliver writes, allowed me to rediscover what I was naturally good at, and what really brought me joy, without feeling like I was being judged against any other expectations. At home, there was no pressure to be on time, or to complete-by-the-due-date, or to make the grade, or to sit at the cool lunch table, or to wear the right jeans.

I did whatever I wanted. Not in a lazy way, but in an imaginative way. What began as a crisis intervention turned out to be the beginning of my life as a focused, determined creative.

I Have a Home, and I Take It Everywhere I Go

After about a year of home-schooling, I felt grounded and safe. When I decided I was ready to go back to school, I signed up for all the music classes, English honors classes, and, get this: Advanced Algebra. I was committed to myself as an artist—writer, dancer, musician, bookworm, baker. At home, I’d discovered a new love for my life and myself. When it was time to leave, and venture back into the outside world, I carried a sense of home within me. “Home” was in my heart, and if I ever felt lost or uncertain, the surest way to discover what to do next, was to get really quiet, and listen.

I’ve been thinking about that period of my life a lot recently—how it began as a last-ditch effort to save me from a total breakdown, and developed into a youthful renaissance of personal development and discovery. This coronavirus quarantine feels strangely similar. It’s the first time since my home-school days that I’ve spent so much time at home. Obviously, a lot has changed since then. I’ve spent most of my adult life recognizing and healing the deeper causes of all that childhood anxiety, and I’m more skilled in calming my nervous system down before I get to the level of hyperventilating-in-the-minivan.

Still, the world is facing an unprecedented crisis, and to say I’m not struggling to remain positive and calm would be disingenuous. So I’m reaching into my toolbox, and pulling out the fool-proof hammers and wrenches that have become my go-to when things are falling apart and I need to remind myself of who I am, and where my power lies.

I am returning to the things I love, and every day I feel increasingly grateful for this unexpected gift of time and solitude. I am doing the things that make me feel the most myself. What an unexpected blessing to emerge from this global crisis.

I can’t say Mother Nature knew I needed this, but I don’t doubt she felt it.

Keep Calm, and Bake On

Needless to say, I’ve been baking. A lot. Below, I’ve shared a recipe for the scones I baked yesterday. I adapted it from The BakerMama, with some tweaks to make them my own. My hope is that the process of creating something so pretty and buttery and citrusy-sweet brings you as mush satisfactory joy as it did to me.

Lavender Lemon Scones

Pretty, buttery, and citrusy-sweet.

Ingredients

Scones:

2 cups all-purpose flour

¼ cup granulated sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon kosher salt

½ cup (1 stick or 8 tablespoons) cold unsalted butter, sliced

2 large lemons, zest and juice, divided (about 5 tablespoons lemon juice—3 for scones, 2 for glaze— and 2 tablespoons lemon zest)

2 tablespoons culinary dried lavender flowers

¼ cup whole milk

1 large egg, lightly beaten

2 tablespoons melted butter, for brushing

more granulated sugar, for sprinkling

Glaze:

1 cup confectioner's sugar

3 teaspoons dried lavender flowers

2 teaspoons freshly grated lemon zest (about 1 large lemon, preferably Meyer)

1-2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (reserved from lemons juiced for the scones)

Make

Scones

1. Preheat oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

2. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt.

3. Add the cold butter to the flour mixture and cut it in with a pastry cutter or two knives, until a crumbly mixture forms.

4. Add lemon zest and lavender flowers. Stir gently to combine.

5. Make a well in the center of the mixture and add 3 tablespoons lemon juice, milk and egg. Stir until mixture just starts to come together and then gently and quickly mix with your hands until all flour is incorporated.

6. Transfer the dough to a very lightly floured surface and form into a circle just under 1-inch thick. Cut into 8 wedges (a pizza cutter works great!) and transfer them to the prepared baking sheet. Brush the top of each scone with a little melted butter and sprinkle with a pinch of granulated sugar.

7. Bake for 18-20 minutes, rotating baking sheet halfway through, until the scones rise and start to turn golden brown. Remove from the oven and let cool completely before glazing.

Glaze

1. Whisk together sugar, lavender flowers, and lemon zest.

2. Start mixing in lemon juice by using one tablespoon at first, then continue adding in only enough to produce a smooth, fluid icing.

3. The best way I've found to glaze the scones is to dip the tops into the icing, then set them bottom side down on a peace of wax paper to let the icing harden. If you’d prefer, you can also drizzle the glaze right on top.

4. Allow at least 10 minutes for the glaze to set, then feel free to dig in!

Store

While scones are the most scrumptious when gobbled up immediately, stored at room temperature in an airtight container, they’ll remain delicious for about three days.