Muffins are tricky buggers to master. They’re tricky enough to get a fancy photo-illustrated spread in the newest edition of the Betty Crocker cookbook. They need just the right amounts of everything. You can’t stir them too long. The batter can’t be too runny or too thick. And you can’t bake them for too long. Or too short. There’s a very fine line when it comes to what makes a perfect muffin. The Muffin Line, I call it.
I’ve been making a lot of muffins. I’ve made a dozen muffins a week since I moved into the apartment. I play with my food before I eat it, so I’ve been trying all kinds of interesting ingredient substitutions. Coconut milk instead of cow milk. Yogurt instead of vegetable oil. Improvised streusel topping. Blueberry. Peach. Cinnamon. Salt-less. (Okay, that last one was because I forgot. It was an unintentional artistic license, and I won’t be doing that one again.)
The last batch wasn’t the greatest. They were dense little things (too much stirring), not to mention the paper stuck to them (not sure why). They were peach cinnamon. They tasted fine after a couple chews. A credible (but gracious) critic called them “a little dry”, but therefore “good for dipping in coffee.” All in all, I’ll give them credit for filling a hole as well as being super healthy, but they don’t offer much in the way of culinary excellence.
I should know. I’ve eaten five of them.
I’ve yet to reach muffin perfection, but I hope to achieve it some sweet day.