Eventual Cornbread Muffins

A recipe for your tween!

Photo by Taryn Elliott from Pexels

Serves: Ugh. Enough, okay?

Total Time: End of your parents’ rope, plus 20 minutes.

Ingredients

1 cup self-exasperating flour

1 tablespoon baking powder. Or is it baking soda? Why are your parents trying to explain the difference? Do they think you’re a baby?

1⁄2 teaspoon salt (the kind you pour in wounds.)

1⁄2 cup sugar

1 cup yellow cornmeal, plus extra for countertops and floor.

1⁄2 cup butter, or 4 tablespoons cut from a stick, one tablespoon at a time, using four different utensils.

1 egg that you think you might be out of and momentarily freak out.

3⁄4 cup milk. Even though milk is gross.

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 375º F. Argue with parents about another recipe that calls for 400 degree oven.
2. Get out ingredients above, along with every single measuring cup, spoon and mixing bowl to your family’s name. Slam, clang and bang onto counter. Sigh loudly.
3. Become irritated when parents ask if they can help, because dinner will be ready in three minutes and the recipe clearly calls for 20 minutes of baking time.
4. Grease muffin pans with cooking spray. Groan forcefully while removing cooking spray cap as if you’re trying to lift an anvil. Allow cap to shoot across kitchen and nearly miss the cat, who was just asking for it.
5. Stomp to pantry and back again.
6. Pour 1 cup of cornmeal into a 1/3 measuring cup. This seems wrong, because it is. Continue. (Important note: Cornmeal must be poured at the most awkward angle possible from a small, irregular hole torn in the top of the box.) Sigh in annoyance when parent “helpfully” sweeps remaining 16 cups of cornmeal off counter into the bowl and calls it good.
7. Mix dry ingredients together at the approximate speed the earth rotates on its axis. Supplement mixing motion with a noise directed at your younger brother that sounds like a cat growling underwater.
8. Using 19 separate bowls and utensils, combine melted butter, milk, and beaten egg. To melt butter, set microwave for five-second intervals over the course of 100 minutes. Grunt loudly when egg doesn’t break through a whisper-soft tap and the power of your mind. Mix together with a delicate combination of apathy and panic.
9. Stomp to pantry and back again. Add exaggerated hair flip, if desired.
10. Add dry mixture to wet mixture in barely perceptible amounts until just combined. This should take the duration of the entire Hamilton soundtrack.
11. Refuse additional offers of assistance as the color drains from your family’s face in hunger and desperation.
12. In slow-motion and with the 627th clean spoon in the house, transfer batter into muffin tins, filling each tin 127% full.
13. Flail arms in frustration when parent asks how full the muffin tins should be and you answer 2/3 full.
14. Glare at parent when they suggest you transfer the overflowing batter into the empty muffin tins to prevent a catastrophic house fire from starting in the oven.
15. Bake for anywhere between 20 minutes and eternity, or until a toothpick inserted into a muffin comes out clean, and the rest of your family has lost the will to live.
16. Remove and serve hot. In delightful contrast to the rest of the meal, which is now ice cold.

ENJOY! Or whatever.