This is a recipe for muffins. Cupcakes for lazy people. This isn't gluten free, low-carb, low-fat, no-whatever. If you want to or have an actual need to make them that way, be my guest (and share the results), but I don't.
You will need varying proportions of the following ingredients at a minimum. This recipe is not about exactness, so just approximate, the kitchen shouldn't explode:
Make a crater in the middle of the dry mix and crack your egg into it. Beat it enough to break the yolk and mix it up, then calm yourself down and stop it. Don't mix it all yet. Melt your margarine or butter. Don't be shy about it. Be generous. Use enough that will make your foodie friends tut in judgmental disapproval. Mix it into the egg, then mix them into the rest. Don't get too crazy, you have to clean up your messes and this shit's still dry.
Slowly pour half to two thirds of whatever cup you used to measure your flour into the mix. Mix it until it's thick like a dough at first, then pour more. The result should be a batter that is thick and heavy, but gives. It should be fairly liquid. Stop stirring and go take a xanax, a glass of wine, yell at your kids, or whatever you can do that will occupy roughly 15 minutes of your time. You could probably skip this part, but the baking powder needs to activate and mama needs to calm her nerves. This is no bakery.
Preheat your oven to 190°C or 375°F and get your forms ready. I don't have a cutesy muffin tray at my disposal, so I use all-purpose forms that are relatively large. Doing it like so will yield four muffins. If you are a responsible adult and have a muffin tray, good for you. I have no idea how many muffins you'll get out of it.
Stop right here. This is the part where, now that you're calmed down and ready to go again, you have two choices. You can either go full-on Betty Crocker, or you can go the lazier route now and risk a greater struggle later. If you opt to do the first thing (how quaint), you'll need parchment paper or any kind of baking paper that isn't waxy. Cut out enough of it that it fits into the form with room for the paper to hang out of the edges. We're talking real, artesanal, Martha Stewart-level bullshit. More points for decorative paper. Less points for cheating with pre-bought muffin papers. This is where the two points converge, in case you were on the verge of peace out, this isn't Pinterest. Take a paper towel and use it to coat your paper or your forms with butter. You could probably use a non-stick spray, but PAM's expensive and cow byproducts are not where I live. The paper route will make the muffins very easy to remove later, but the nonstick part will probably suck more. No paper almost guarantees that you will be eating your muffin in two parts: the crispy, delicious top that fell off as you were banging on your muffin upside-down like a moron and the soft, cake-like, but ultimately tiresome rest of the muffin. It's your choice.
This is where you can get creative even if you're lazy. These muffins can be made with anything you like to eat in a muffin. Don't send me stories of you making deliberately weird muffins, no egg and cheese muffins, no two piece and a biscuit muffins, no kale muffins. I don't have time for that. Pour the batter into the forms. Like small children and vegetables, you want to leave enough room for the muffins to grow, but not too much that they don't do anything, which in my case works out to roughly half an inch from the top. If you're adding other ingredients, try adding them in layers: batter, extra, batter, extra. You'll get even distribution, and you'll fool whoever you live with into thinking you knew what you were doing. You can drizzle some honey on the top of the muffins before baking to give them a glaze on top as they bake, but if you add too much, the honey will sink and you'll have a soggy drizzle down the side of your muffin. Don't be a sloppy, soggy mess.
Put the muffins in your oven and bake for 20-30 minutes. Use the toothpick trick. They should come out golden. Common sense. Take them out of the oven and let them cool before you try to take them out of the forms if you didn't use paper. If they're still hot, they'll a) stick and b) burn you, for which you have only yourself to blame. Once that's done, congratulations, you successfully made muffins! The house didn't burn down! Now go wash your dishes.
You will need varying proportions of the following ingredients at a minimum. This recipe is not about exactness, so just approximate, the kitchen shouldn't explode:
- Flour. I use half-white, half-whole grain, because I don't like to go full hippy with it.
- Baking powder. Don't use yeast, this isn't a loaf.
- Salt.
- Sugar. You can do without, but why do you hate yourself?
- Cinnamon. Actually optional.
- An egg.
- Milk. Any product masquerading itself as the equivalent of cow juice will do, but it might be a little gross.
- Margarine. You can use either this or butter, depending on how much you're channeling your inner Paula Deen. Minus the racism.
Make a crater in the middle of the dry mix and crack your egg into it. Beat it enough to break the yolk and mix it up, then calm yourself down and stop it. Don't mix it all yet. Melt your margarine or butter. Don't be shy about it. Be generous. Use enough that will make your foodie friends tut in judgmental disapproval. Mix it into the egg, then mix them into the rest. Don't get too crazy, you have to clean up your messes and this shit's still dry.
Slowly pour half to two thirds of whatever cup you used to measure your flour into the mix. Mix it until it's thick like a dough at first, then pour more. The result should be a batter that is thick and heavy, but gives. It should be fairly liquid. Stop stirring and go take a xanax, a glass of wine, yell at your kids, or whatever you can do that will occupy roughly 15 minutes of your time. You could probably skip this part, but the baking powder needs to activate and mama needs to calm her nerves. This is no bakery.
Preheat your oven to 190°C or 375°F and get your forms ready. I don't have a cutesy muffin tray at my disposal, so I use all-purpose forms that are relatively large. Doing it like so will yield four muffins. If you are a responsible adult and have a muffin tray, good for you. I have no idea how many muffins you'll get out of it.
Stop right here. This is the part where, now that you're calmed down and ready to go again, you have two choices. You can either go full-on Betty Crocker, or you can go the lazier route now and risk a greater struggle later. If you opt to do the first thing (how quaint), you'll need parchment paper or any kind of baking paper that isn't waxy. Cut out enough of it that it fits into the form with room for the paper to hang out of the edges. We're talking real, artesanal, Martha Stewart-level bullshit. More points for decorative paper. Less points for cheating with pre-bought muffin papers. This is where the two points converge, in case you were on the verge of peace out, this isn't Pinterest. Take a paper towel and use it to coat your paper or your forms with butter. You could probably use a non-stick spray, but PAM's expensive and cow byproducts are not where I live. The paper route will make the muffins very easy to remove later, but the nonstick part will probably suck more. No paper almost guarantees that you will be eating your muffin in two parts: the crispy, delicious top that fell off as you were banging on your muffin upside-down like a moron and the soft, cake-like, but ultimately tiresome rest of the muffin. It's your choice.
This is where you can get creative even if you're lazy. These muffins can be made with anything you like to eat in a muffin. Don't send me stories of you making deliberately weird muffins, no egg and cheese muffins, no two piece and a biscuit muffins, no kale muffins. I don't have time for that. Pour the batter into the forms. Like small children and vegetables, you want to leave enough room for the muffins to grow, but not too much that they don't do anything, which in my case works out to roughly half an inch from the top. If you're adding other ingredients, try adding them in layers: batter, extra, batter, extra. You'll get even distribution, and you'll fool whoever you live with into thinking you knew what you were doing. You can drizzle some honey on the top of the muffins before baking to give them a glaze on top as they bake, but if you add too much, the honey will sink and you'll have a soggy drizzle down the side of your muffin. Don't be a sloppy, soggy mess.
Put the muffins in your oven and bake for 20-30 minutes. Use the toothpick trick. They should come out golden. Common sense. Take them out of the oven and let them cool before you try to take them out of the forms if you didn't use paper. If they're still hot, they'll a) stick and b) burn you, for which you have only yourself to blame. Once that's done, congratulations, you successfully made muffins! The house didn't burn down! Now go wash your dishes.
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