For me, staying home sick usually means several things: sleeping in, conversing with my cat and now, baking. As much as I love sleeping and relaxing, I’m completely unable to spend a day being unproductive. A day wasted is, well, just that. Wasted.
Waking up Friday morning I already felt the usual itch to do something, anything, that would be a worthy use of my time. So, I searched through my refrigerator and pantry to see what I could make on such short notice. Seeing as I lacked any specialty ingredients, I had to make due with the basics: flour, sugar, oil. I considered my options: cookies, a bland cake. And then it hit me: muffins.
Salty and sweet; breakfast, snack or dessert. Muffins are versatile and sturdy and they don’t mess around. Sure, macarons are dainty and cupcakes are cute, but muffins are straightforward.
I started out by mixing together all of the dry ingredients, and then the wet ingredients. Because I didn’t have very many ingredients, I stuck with brown sugar and vanilla as the muffins’ main flavors. After combining both wet and dry, I poured the mixture into a muffin tin and set it in the oven for 45 minutes. And it was just as easy as it sounds.
Once I tested the muffins with a toothpick to see if they were done, I set them on my counter to cool. To add a sweet, final touch, I sprinkled course sugar on top of each muffin, and voila.
Tasting the muffins, I was pretty sure of what to expect: dense, slightly moist and pretty average. But they ended up being so much more. The muffins’ ordinary look was deceptive: the brown sugar and cinnamon I’d added combined to give them a distinct autumnal flavor. Warm, they tasted the way a bear hug feels. All-encompassing and delightful. The recipe I’d used was too simple, too fast to yield such great results. But it did.
As the writer of a baking blog, I feel like I need to constantly challenge myself with the kind of recipes that would make Julia Child cry. The kind where it takes so much effort to grind spices and cut in butter that I want to scream. Honestly, those recipes and baking experiences make for more entertaining blogs. So, dear reader, I’d like to apologize.
I’m sorry that I’ve improved my baking. I’m sorry that I’ve started using easier recipes, and succeeding (sometimes) at what I bake. I know the failures are more fun to read about, and it’s even more fun to brainstorm all of the different metaphors I can use to describe my blunders. But even without all of the hard recipes, I’m still learning. Both about baking and myself. And that’s what really matters, more than entertainment or getting things right.
Actually, maybe I’m not so sorry anymore.
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