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Extra kids always welcome at this table Travis already had eaten at home, I'm pretty sure about that. His parents are the conscientious sort, ever ready to supply their growing boy with sufficient vittles. So when my son's best friend since babyhood dropped by at dinner time, I expected the two of them to disappear promptly, leaving only the usual trail of dirty socks and half-empty glasses of milk. But Travis didn't want to go. Instead, the 12-year-old looked at the pasta I'd prepared for supper, sniffed appreciatively at the aroma of the fresh basil-and-tomato sauce, and pulled up a chair. "Can I have some?" he said, grabbing a plate. "That looks good." God, I love that boy! As the mother of children who don't always appreciate my culinary charms, I have developed a deep and abiding affection for the kids who do. That would include Travis, who never walks through my kitchen without nibbling a bit of whatever I'm making. Even when my own son objects to the onions in the chicken pot pie or the peas in the beef stew, Travis is right there, bowl in hand, ready for seconds. The same goes for Skyler, another 12-year-old, a boy whose unerring sense of timing always tells him when the pizza's ready. "You should open your own pizza shop," he tells me, smiling slyly and reaching for a second piece. The flattery works, every time. As far as I'm concerned, Skyler can count on steady supplies of homemade pizza until he leaves for college. And it's not just the boys whose kitchen patronage I appreciate. After all, they're pre-teen males, voracious creatures whose appetites are, well, less than discriminating. They'll eat things like gummy worms and marshmallows dipped in cocoa powder and peanut butter, so I'm not kidding myself that they appreciate the nuances of my seasonings. But the girls -- my daughter's friends -- are different. My own girl always has been a reluctant gourmet, a kid who eyes every spoonful of new food suspiciously. It was a cause for rejoicing last year when she finally ate a mushroom without gagging. But not her friends. Happily, my daughter boasts several pals who don't limit their diets to endless servings of Top Ramen. There's Caitlin, for instance, a lovely girl who actually prefers pizza dolled up with artichokes and olives and onions and herbs to the plain cheese version I always offer my own children. There's Jill, who even liked my experimental Peach Streusel Muffins. The truth is, I love cooking for Caitlin and Jill and the other kids my friends bring home. Now that they're all teenagers, more or less, cooking provides one of the few opportunities I have to interact with these young people. When they were little, I could haul them all to the park or take them to the movies. They had no choice but to let me join in. But what am I going to do now? Hang out in the bedroom and listen to the Backstreet Boys? Join them in the bathroom while they curl their hair? Trade opinions on whether Ricky Martin is a "hottie?" As my daughter would say: I don't think so. Instead, I cook. So when the girls straggle downstairs after a sleepover, I present them with fresh, hot scones. And not just any scones. I make a batch from a recipe that I developed just for Caitlin, just because I know she shares my hankering for white chocolate and dried cranberries. You'll find the recipe for Caitlin's Scones below. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I get to sit around with my children and their friends, eating scones and talking while the morning sun streams through the kitchen windows. It never lasts long, but I like it. It's in those moments that a mom's heart feels most full; it's then that I know the kids aren't the only ones being nourished. Caitlin's Cranberry-White Chocolate Scones 4 large eggs, lightly beaten 1 cup buttermilk 1 tablespoon vanilla extract 4 cups all-purpose flour 2/3 cup sugar 1 tablespoon baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 2/3 cup unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes 2 cups dried cranberries 1 cup white chocolate chips Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Lightly butter two large baking sheets. In a large bowl, stir together the buttermilk, eggs and vanilla. In another large bowl, stir together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt. With a pastry blender or two knives, cut in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir the buttermilk mixture into the flour mixture until just combined. Stir in the dried cranberries and white chocolate chips. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead it for 30 to 60 seconds, or until combined. On the floured surface, pat the dough out into a 12-inch square. Cut the dough into 2-inch squares. Transfer the scones to the prepared baking sheet. Bake for 14 to 17 minutes, or until the scones are lightly browned. Transfer the baking sheet to a wire rack and cool for 5 minutes. Using a spatula, transfer the scones to the wire rack and cool. Serve warm. Makes 18 scones. Send cooking questions to JoNel Aleccia, The Mail Tribune, P.O. Box 1108, Medford, OR 97501. Call 776-4465, or send e-mail [email protected] Mail Tribune Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1999, Medford, Oregon USA