Food blogs are funny little beasts.
The words are simple. Food. Blog. A blog of food. And yet, for most of us they have become more than just a logging of what we put in our mouths. We fill them with so much longing. Longing for comments, longing for people to want to make our recipes, longing for acceptance. As if we can ever really figure out what acceptance means.
We either hide our real lives behind perfect lighting, only sharing the most wonderful or beautifully poignant moments, or we glory in our lack of perfection, seeking out validation by trying to get people to deny our lack of talent, our ugliness, our sameness. Our readers become connections, which in turn become friends. And yet, even when I think on friends whom I would fight to the death for, I know little. The Internet has taught us to share everything – only just not much of anything.
Life is not in soft focus with sepia tones or artfully scattered with tiny sprigs of thyme.
It’s disjointed, much like this post. It’s full of tears, and yelling, and wondering just what the hell you in fact are doing with this life, despite being in a place that should make you so, so happy. Life is kind of shitty like that.
It’s full of wondering whether you really should share what’s on your mind. If you should keep things pleasant and lovely on social media, if you should plaster on a smile in public. If you should keep quiet about actual life. Because actual life is scary. People don’t know how to handle it when presented with your problems. There is listening, to be sure, and occasional virtual hugs. But almost all is forgotten when the next person posts a To Die For Oozy Boozy Chocolate Drizzle Cake.
I apologize if you came here for the muffin recipe. It’s after the next photo, I swear. Go ahead and scroll on.
… OK then.
Maybe I’m just a romantic who manages to build up her heart every day, hoping that each time the new layer is formed, it can’t be chipped away. Maybe I’ve embraced too much of my vulnerability these days. Maybe this is all just part of being an adult, and you are all just better at hiding life than I am.
Can I go back to not being an adult, please?
Can you hold my hand, and whisper your stories and fears by dim flashlight, as we try to stay awake longer than we know is possible?
Can we just stop pretending this is all about the food?
I’ve been working on these muffins for a while, chasing a taste memory. Blueberry muffins are the very first thing I learned how to make, and I always return to them, no matter how much my son complains about blueberries.
Blueberry Lime Muffins
1 1/2 self-rising flour (such as King Arthur)
1/2 cup whole wheat pastry flour
2 tablespoons flax meal (such as King Arthur)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
1/4 cup (4 tablespoons) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
2 large eggs
3/4 cup greek yogurt (such as Fage 0%)
1 cup fresh blueberries
Preheat oven to 400°F. Grease a muffin tin, or line with paper liners. (Spraying the paper liners will help release the muffins from the papers.)
Mix together flours and flax and set aside.
In another bowl, mix together sugars and melted butter. Beat in eggs, then fold in yogurt.
Stir in flour mixture until just mixed. Zest lime into batter, then cut lime in half and juice into batter. Add blueberries, and stir until just incorporated. The batter will be thick.
Fill muffin cups 3/4 full, and bake for about 20 minutes.
Makes approximately 15 muffins, depending on the size of your berries and the cup fill. Best served immediately after baking, but can keep in an airtight container for up to 3 days, and reheat in the microwave for about 15 seconds.