An Obsession

I feel a bit like I've failed you this week. I should be reporting with tales of triumphant one person meals, maybe a rustic risotto, a heady French onion soup or a flaky fillet of white fish, perfectly prepared and prettily presented in a parchment paper packet.

But I've made none of these things this week because every time I go to open a cookbook or plan dinner, I decide I'd rather be baking. So I do. This week has been a flurry of flour and sugar and butter, all spun together in the bowl of my mixer to make lemon blueberry buckle, from-scratch granola bars pocked with half-moons of dried apricot and blackberry muffins that carry my summertime favorite into fall.

It's the muffins I want to talk to you about today. Anyone who knows me well, knows I am among the muffin obsessed. It started when I worked at a wholesome little bakery as the bleary-eyed countergirl (my shift started before six...on a weekend). Thoughts of their oatmeal berry muffins roused me from bed before sunrise, and eating one, or two, got me through many a shift. Years later, those muffins filled my freezer at college; I stocked up on a few dozen every time I went home, then rationed them throughout the term like a squirrel trying to make a nut stash last through the winter.

There were, of course, Muffin Mondays at the local bakery with two dear friends and muffin making mornings shared with my trio of roommates, who were only too happy to let me bake away. Even now, muffins are the baked good I gravitate toward because, like cookies and cupcakes, they are perfectly proportioned for one.

So every weekend of late, I've made a batch of muffins to freeze and then defrost and eat throughout the week. For awhile, I was trying different recipes on for size, to see which one suited me in the same way another woman might try this style or that one before deciding that her look was sporty chic. And eventually, I met a muffin that finally halted my search for the perfect one.

Appropriately, it called for the harbinger of spring, those skinny red stalks of rhubarb that fill the stands at the first farmer's markets of the year. When rhubarb season ended, however, I found that the recipe was equally impressive made with most any fruit. My preference of late has been the local blackberries my husband Jake and I froze on trays in our freezer, then tucked away in baggies for a rainy day.

I like to split these moist, sugar-dusted muffins in half and top the stump with a bit of jam, then save the best part - the muffin top - for last. Don't ask me why the top is the best part. I can't pinpoint why I like it best, but I know the muffin-obsessed among us will agree. 

Blackberry Applesauce Muffins
In my opinion, the best muffins have a lingering sweetness, which is best achieved with a dusting of sugar or crumbly topping of some sort. So while these muffins might taste fine plain, I can't say I've tried them that way. Instead, I always dust them with a bit of brown sugar and cinnamon before I pop them in the oven. 

2 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup all purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1 1/4 cups packed brown sugar
1 cup applesauce
3/4 cup canola oil
1 1/2 cup frozen blackberries (or fresh rhubarb cut into 1/4-inch pieces or a frozen fruit of your choice)
Cinnamon and brown sugar topping, if desired (I use about 1/2 cup of brown sugar and a teaspoon of cinnamon)

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

In a large mixing bowl, stir together both flours, the baking powder, cinnamon, baking soda and salt. Make a well in the center and set the bowl aside.

In a medium mixing bowl, beat the eggs with a small whisk. Whisk in the brown sugar, applesauce and oil. 

Pour the wet ingredients into the well you made in the dry ingredients, and stir until the batter is combined. Fold in the blackberries.

Grease a standard size muffin tin or place liners in each of 12 muffin cups. Fill each cup to the brim (to encourage a massive top) and sprinkle the batter with the cinnamon-sugar mixture if desired.

Bake for 18 to 20 or until the tops are golden and a toothpick comes out clean when you pierce a muffin in the middle. (If the tops start to look too brown but the insides still need oven time, cover the tops with a large piece of tinfoil).

Serve warm, preferably with berry jam, or cool and freeze to eat later.