This has been a very strange evening.
I don’t usually skip ahead to the end of my baking tales, but really, I was ready to give up on these weird oatmeal singles muffiny thingles completely, until Dave and Nathaniel each gobbled one up with glee. And then about ten minutes later, when I asked Dave if he REALLY thought it tasted good, he confessed that he’d actually eaten two of them. And the next morning, Nathaniel asked if he could take two of them to school for his snack.
So I guess it all turned out okay. But I had a really good reason for thinking it wouldn’t. You’ll see.
It started out simply enough, with three cups of oats.
See? Simple, honest oats.
To that I added brown sugar, baking powder, and salt. Then, even though it wasn’t in the recipe, I added cinnamon, about a teaspoon and a half. It just felt like the right thing to do.
I stirred that well, and set it aside, then took out another bowl, and mashed up the last of the disgustingly brown bananas. I think the whole family is relieved that they have disappeared off the counter at last.
To that I added one egg, and two egg whites.
Then — and this is important — I added a quarter cup of 1% milk.
I added vanilla, whisked it all together, and poured it into the oats mixture.
I stirred it up, and thought the texture seemed about perfect. And then I did what I’ve been doing ever since I screwed up Rosie’s cheesecake; I re-read the list of ingredients carefully, making sure I included everything. And that’s when I saw that it didn’t call for a quarter cup of milk, it called for ONE AND A QUARTER cups of milk.
I poured a cup of milk in, and stirred. The texture suddenly got a lot less perfect. It got watery. (Well, milky.)
I threw in the chocolate chips, hoping that would help.
It didn’t, really.
I added some more oats, spilling some on my iPad in my haste and concern.
There was nothign left to do. I divided it among my two trays of muffin cups, and put the first one in the oven. (I’ve learned not to try to do two at once.) Here’s the other one, waiting its turn. It just looks like pure liquid in there, doesn’t it? Oaty liquid.
I was supposed to bake for 18-22 minutes, but I’m sure the first batch was in for almost 30. In fact, I took it out just after 20 minutes and then ended up putting it back in again because they were still a little loose when I tried to remove them from the pan. I was sure, at that point, that there was just far too much milk, and they were never going to cook all the way through.
The second batch baked up more quickly, probably just due to the thinner muffin tin. Amazing how many variables are involved.
I brought a bunch of them in to work this morning, and they disappeared in record time. So they are a much bigger hit than I could possibly have predicted.The trick, as Dave says, is to make sure people aren’t expecting muffins. They are shaped like muffins, they are baked like muffins, but muffins they are not. They are baked oatmeal singles. Breakfast on the go.
I’m thinking cinnamon chips next time. Or peanut butter chips. Or milk chocolate chips. Or finally ordering those cappuccino chips from the King Arthur Flour site I’ve had my eye on but won’t fork over the cash for. Clearly this recipe is destined to become a staple, based on the response.
Speak Your Mind