Cry Baby Muffins

The summer after I graduated from college I came home and spent the season terrorizing my mom and putting off the “real world” as I searched for a job.

The summer after I graduated from college I came home and spent the season terrorizing my mom and putting off the “real world” as I searched for a job. I had it pretty nice. I worked. I enjoyed home-cooked meals. And then I had a total mental breakdown. It was one of those breakdowns where you have no idea what you’re doing in life and you miss your friends and you’re poor and then suddenly you decide that you need to stop everything and bake some muffins.

 

So I did. I baked the hell out of some muffins on that July afternoon. I cried. I mixed. And then I cried some more. Then, just as some more tears started pouring and I placed the last perfectly brown blueberry muffin on the wire rack to cool, my brother walked in the kitchen. We looked at each other briefly before he grabbed one of the muffins. “These taste like human tears,” he told me before we both burst into laughter.

 

It’s a silly thing, crying over blueberry batter. But it happens, and I’ll admit that it wasn’t the last time I’ve shed a few tears over baked goods. I’m slowly learning that everyone is going to have those moments where you’re unsure and scared and need a few minutes to wallow in self pity. My thoughts? I say do it. Wallow around for a little bit, but then just make sure you or someone else brings you back to Earth. Because it’s all going to be okay. Life marches on and, besides, wallowing can get old after a while.

 

Need to wallow a little bit today? Here’s my favorite recipe from Smitten Kitchen. Note that in order for them to be deemed Cry Baby Muffins (my big brother later declared this the name of any and all muffins I create from now until the end of time), you’ll need about 20 minute’s worth of tears, puffy eyes, and your mom’s old apron. 

 

Photo courtesy of Smitten Kitchen.