My mother-in-law included a recipe for bran muffins that was handed down from her own grandmother. And while there are few things less exciting than bran muffins, there are few things more asinine than insulting your husband's great grandmother's personal recipes given to you with love.
Nevertheless, I shall try.
For starters, the recipe is included as a xerox of what appears to have been the handwritten original "by Ginny's grandmother, Mary Emmaline Cole Baldwin. She was from Connecticut and lived until 84 years old," which, judging from the state of the handwriting, she appeared to have been at the time she wrote the recipe down. In fact, the handwriting is such a curious mixture of shaky and old time-y, that, for example, it appears to be a recipe for "Bran Penis" and not "Bran Muffins." Maybe there's something I don't know about Mary Emmaline Cole Baldwin.
Actually, now that I think of it, I think Josh's mom says they are called "Bran Gems." That makes more sense. But I still think what I think.
Moving on, evidently Josh's grandmother used to say that this recipe was for his grandfather's "Baldwin stomach." I guess the Baldwins weren't big shitters, which is always nice to know about someone. I guess, is it, that the thing about bran muffins is no one wants to eat them unless they have to? That they taste so bad/bland/whatever that the fact that they are 'muffins' is only meant to disguise the fact that they are a bran delivery device?
As an anxious person, problems with constipation are about as foreign to me as, well, advanced mathematical techniques. And since I chose my college partially based on the fact that I wouldn't have to take a math class, I'll let you deduce that I mean very foreign. So, in short, I can't imagine ever having any need for these things.
Or could I?
I was planning on making these muffins on Monday. Even though it was Memorial Day, Big still had his regularly scheduled dog walk. But when he came back from his walk, a strange thing happened: he was doing this licking, swallowing, burping thing that dogs do before they are about to barf. The thing is, Big never barfs. Like never. So barfing for him is a sign something might be really wrong. As is the fact that he acts like he is going to barf, but never does. For hours.
Yes, that is right. For hours, the dog followed Josh and me around, seemingly fine, except for the fact that he kept licking constantly, swallowing, and then belching. Over and over and over. Hi Mommy. Lick lick lick, gulp, burp. Lick lick. We had no idea what was wrong with him, and of course it was a holiday so we couldn't just call our vet and ask what they thought. It was emergency vet visit or wait it out. I went out to buy the bran (which was a festival in and of itself - you try to find bran, I dare you) , but when I came back the "Licky and Burpy Show," as Josh named it, was still in full force.
I started to get stressed out (notice a pattern?) and started emailing our vet (have I mentioned how much I love our vet?), calling another vet, looking up emergency vets, and generally freaking out. We fed the dog an early dinner, which surprisingly he ate with relish - before going out into the yard and trying to gobble down every strand of grass he could find. I got more stressed.
Josh, God bless him, had already had to deal with me moping due to my cold all weekend and was getting worried about the dog too. But he pulled it together and put Big in his crate ostensibly to quiet him down, but arguably to keep him away from me so I could chill out. After several hours of this, I gave up and decided to make the goddamn bran muffins. At least it would keep me busy.
The actual making of the bran muffins was very easy. The hardest part, as I mentioned, was finding the bran itself--that was three separate grocery stores and several blank looks of confusion before I tracked it down, but I digress. Just mix it up, slop it into the muffin tins, and bake.
Then they were done, and I had nothing else to distract me. The dog was still having his issues. At this point I was pretty sure something was stuck in him - hopefully some of the piles of kleenex I'd left all over the house from my cold and not something toxic or surgery-requiring. Out of desperation, I actually tossed the smallest muffin to him, giving Big the innaugural taste and hoping that somehow magically that would fix everything.
And God damn it, it did.
I won't say the Licky & Burpy Show subsided immediately upon his swallowing the muffin, but it did shortly thereafter. And all of a sudden, about five hours of alarming behavior was just overwith. Later on, I talked with both my vet and Big's walker, both of whom seperately thought that perhaps he'd gotten some foxtail stuck in his throat on his walk. I hadn't heard of foxtail before, but it's a foxtail-looking grass that is in abundance around here and evidently gets caught in dogs' nasal passages/throats/etc. this time of year a lot. It happened to my vet's dog last week, and Big's friend Olie last year - both of whom had to be anesthetized to have the foxtails surgically removed from their noses. And it's exactly the sort of frondy thing Big loves to eat.
Thus, it was only with the curative powers of the Bran Muffins that Big's mysterious possible foxtail (or whatever) was dislodged. Seriously, I think the harsh bran fibers grabbed onto the foxtail (or whatever) and told it who was boss. THE BRAN MUFFINS ARE MAGIC!
Also, they taste okay. Pretty bland. They need butter or jam or something to dress them up. But who am I to argue with magic? It was a long day. My sinuses were killing me. I popped a bran muffin and hoped for the best.
Mary Emmaline Cole Baldwin's Magic Bran Penis Muffins
2 cups bran (wheat bran? oat bran?)
1 cup wheat flour (which we luckily have from Kristin's banana bread recipe)
1 cup sweet milk (what is this?)
6 tbsp molasses (gross)
1 tsp soda (??)
a pinch of salt
Says great-grandma Baldwin: "One half this recipe will make about six large muffins." Or in the native English, this recipe makes 12 muffins.
Says Ginny: "For success and a pleasanter muffin, use 2 cups flour and 1 cup bran instead of as written. Add the rest of the recipe and then add 1 tbsp baking powder (to flour), and 1 egg and 1/4 cup oil (to milk)."
Feel superior you got wheat bran to mix to your wheat flour for a full-wheat recipe. Wonder if sweet milk is something other than milk. Is it cream? Is it condensed milk? Is it something else entirely? Use regular milk. Wonder if 'soda' means baking soda or liquid soda. Use baking soda. Wonder why molasses smells so horrible. Wonder if dog is okay yet.
Mix all dry ingredients, mix all liquids, and then add to dry. Barely mix together. Bake at 375 for about 20 minutes. Eat to cure anything that ails you. Seriously. Anything.
Viva la Bran Penis!
ReplyDelete"Sweet milk" has got to be sweetened condensed milk, I think.
ReplyDeleteTwo cups of bran in anything skeers me.
Josh says 'sweet milk' is actually a thing and scolded me for not asking him, which explains why the muffins were quite so dry. and you will note that my mother-in-law's revision for the recipe says only 1 cup of bran, which is how I made it and enough to magically cure lodged foxtails, so try it that way. If you need magic penis muffins.
ReplyDeleteI just went back to read some of the entries I had missed. This one is hysterical!!! LOL! I'll never be able to look at a bran muffin again without thinking of it as a magic penis muffin. I don't know what I'll do in a bakery when the urge to laugh out loud overtakes me!
ReplyDelete