Raspberry Muffins with Lime Zest Glaze . . . Breakfast is Served!

Can we talk about muffins? Specifically, raspberry muffins? Oh good. I was hoping you'd want to because these are truly captivating muffins.

Now, about raspberries . . . I tend to consider them the champagne of berries. Special, and maybe even celebratory. Being the costly little items that they are, I think I can say with certainty that they will never be bountiful in my household. They do manage to make their way over the threshold once in a while, in one of those diminutive plastic-shell containers, the entire package weighing barely more than a baby bird. You know the ones I mean. And that analogy is probably also apt because raspberries seem to require almost the same tender handling as a baby bird. Easily bruised, their shelf life is brief, so while they're viable they're simply too precious to waste. It's nice when they do make their way not only into my kitchen, but into a recipe this predictably delicious.


You can do a lot with this basic muffin recipe. It can be used with other berries and it can be flavored differently as well, if that's your preference. It's quick, uncomplicated, and just right as one component of a weekend breakfast or brunch. These muffins are sweet, but not too sweet. The tart lime-zest glaze, though delicate in its own way, lends an especially welcome little zing that dovetails perfectly with the flavors of the muffin. The texture is more muffinish than cakey, so you probably won't feel like you're eating dessert when you bite into one (which may or may not be a good thing, depending on your mood and point of view). I can confidently vouch for these. I think you'll like them.


Raspberry Muffins with Lime Zest Glaze

(For a printable version of this recipe click here!)

Makes about at 12 (or 13!) muffins
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

1 cup whole milk
1/2 cup unsalted butter
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 large eggs
2 cups AP flour
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
3/4 to 1 cup fresh ripe raspberries (cut berries approximately in half)

Glaze:
1 cup sifted confectioners' sugar
3 T. of water (more or less)
1 tsp. of fresh lime juice
1 tsp. of lime zest (more or less, per your taste)

Put paper liners in your muffin cups or use nonstick baking spray.

Or, if you're a fanatic like me you might actually choose to do both. No kidding, I tend to feel the need to cover all bases whenever a muffin/cupcake pan is involved. And while we're on the subject of muffin cups, have you ever seen or tried these liners in the photo just below? They're environmentally friendly cupcake liners. Unbleached, they're made by a company in Sweden. They've been around for years so I guess you could say they were sort of ahead of their time (let's face it, Sweden's been ahead of us in a number of respects for decades but, hey, that's a post for someone else's blog). The only trouble with them is that they don't really stick very well to all muffins/cupcakes . . . hmmm . . .


Cut up your berries if they're not already pretty small.

Melt the butter in a sauce pan. Add the vanilla extract and the milk. Stir to combine.

Cool until the mixture is just warm, then whisk in the eggs.

Combine well, in a large mixing bowl, the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Pour the liquid mixture into the dry ingredients, blending just until combined.

Add the raspberries, folding them in gently.

Divide the batter among the muffin cups. It will be pretty soupy, but don't let that stop you from using an ice cream scoop (or "disher" if you prefer) to apportion the batter. It makes the whole business less messy too; I use them all the time.

Put those babies in the oven, on the top rack to help avoid overbrowning the bottoms.

They bake pretty quickly so, knowing your own oven, check up on them accordingly. They take perhaps 16 minutes in my oven, but 15 to 20 minutes is the typical range. Take them out when a toothpick inserted comes out clean, and when they're lightly golden brown on top.
Let them cool in the pan for a minute or two, then take them out and let them cool completely on a rack. Now you can make your glaze.

In a small bowl, combine the confectioners' sugar with the water, adding in just enough until the consistency is thinner than gravy but not watery. Keep stirring and pressing out any little lumps in the sugar until it's all completely smooth. Add in the lime juice and the zest, stirring to combine. Taste it to see if it's zesty enough for you. If not, add in more juice and/or zest. If you prefer a thicker glaze, just add in more sifted confectioners' sugar.


Once the muffins are fully cool, they can be glazed. I dipped the tops of the muffins into a little bowl of glaze, then put them on a rack over a cookie sheet until the glaze set--not long at all. Of course, you can always brush on, or spoon on, the glaze if you like.

Now, break one open and take a bite . . . . . . isn't that good? See, I told you.


*This recipe is adapted from a combo of several fruit muffin recipes I've looked at lately on foodie websites, and from recipes in a variety of cookbooks. Muffin recipes really abound, don't they?


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Strawberry Scones . . . When You're Longing for Summer . . .

In Michigan, strawberry season arrives in June. The season is short--or perhaps it just feels that way--and the small sweet berries are exceptionally tasty and richly, vividly red. If I go to a farm to pick them, as my basket fills I find myself gazing at the swelling pile of berries with a craving to just drink the color in. There's something almost voluptuous about them, and they smell so divine.

I couldn't wait until June to take this recipe for a test drive, though, so I went ahead and bought some California berries to try it out. (Sorry California, I'm afraid your big grocery-store strawberries really can't compete, but they'll do in a pinch.) I love scones, though for me they tend to evoke winter, probably because of the dried fruit one so often finds in them. I wanted something a little brighter and fresher this time, scones that would evoke springtime and the longing for summer. I did some experimenting, and this recipe is today's result (an adaptation/amalgamation of several recipes I've pored over lately). It contains a tiny bit of nutmeg and, instead of using all white sugar, it contains an equal proportion of light-brown sugar, thus the baked scones' light golden color inside and out.

Because you get to put your hands right into the dough, then toss it onto your work surface for shaping, it satisfies that urge to really touch what you're making, and it requires no mixer or food processor or anything else noisy for that matter.

It's nice to bake something now and then that seems so basic, simple, and unpretentious. Something so . . . well. . . so rustic.


Rustic Fresh-Strawberry Scones

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Line two cookie sheets with parchment.

4 1/2 cups AP flour
2 Tbsp. granulated sugar
2 Tbsp. light brown sugar, loosely packed
1/8 tsp. nutmeg
2 Tbsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1 cup of unsalted butter, very cold, and cut into many small chunks
1 1/3 cup of hulled, diced ripe strawberries (the sweeter the better)
2 cups of heavy cream, plus an additional tablespoon or two
1 beaten egg yolk


Put the berry pieces in a colander, over a piece or two of paper towel to absorb excess moisture. Set aside.


In a large mixing bowl, stir together thoroughly the flour, sugars, nutmeg, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.



With a pastry blender, cut in the butter coarsely, so some small lumps remain. Pour the berry pieces into the bowl and gently toss them to coat and combine.


Add the cream to the mixture, folding it all together with your hands for a minute or less. The dough will be extremely sticky (actually, even an adjective like profoundly would be apt to describe how sticky it will feel--it's pretty darn sticky). Stop folding as soon as the dough coheres.


Generously flour your work surface and dump the mixture directly onto it.


Flour your hands and, by patting, shape the dough into a large rectangle that will be about 1" thick.

Using a floured pizza wheel, or a floured sharp knife, cut the dough into eight smaller rectangles.
From there, slice each small rectangle into two triangles. You'll have sixteen pieces when you're done.


Use a metal spatula to transfer the pieces to the cookie sheets. Chill the pieces on the sheets in the fridge for one hour or the freezer for half an hour.


Mix the beaten egg yolk with the remaining heavy cream. Using a pastry brush, gently coat the top of each piece. Sprinkle sanding sugar liberally over each (adds a nice sparkle).

Put them in the oven on the middle and upper racks. Bake for about 25 to 30 minutes, checking as needed to avoid overbrowning. You may want to switch placement of the sheets if needed halfway through. Lightly cover the scones with foil if they're browning too quickly. Remove when tops and bottoms are golden brown and the middles appear done (they shouldn't feel squishy).

Cool the scones on the pans for five minutes. Using a metal spatula, remove them to racks to cool for at least ten minutes more before serving. They're good warm or cold, but it's wise to eat them the same day they're baked. Definitely best the same day.

Serve plain or with butter. Enjoy!


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Between Baking Projects . . . I Like to do a Little Gardening Now and Then . . .

I'm not really sure what these are . . . I think my brother-in-law calls them sundrops. Appropriate, yes?


Even a garish little primrose appears shamelessly amid the detritus of last autumn.


The sweet woodruff is in full bloom right now, and the fern unfurled just last week . . .



Trillium are protected in Michigan, so when I see this flower in our backyard I feel like we've been entrusted with something remarkable.


This lovely little plant with the speckled leaves is a pulmonaria variety called "Mrs. Moon." The blooms are tiny as can be, but aren't they cute?

Back to baking now. (On the menu tomorrow . . . fresh strawberry scones.)

Cinnamon Streusel Cake: Sometimes You Just Gotta Have It!

Have you ever been appalled, or just otherwise annoyed, by the pathetic lack of streusel in an otherwise respectable-looking cinnamon streusel cake? If you're nodding your head right now, read on.

For the disappointed among us, here's an interestingly satisfying cake. It comes out looking very striped, with two pronounced layers of streusel--one in the middle and one on top. The recipe contains a full cup of chopped pecans, within the streusel layers only, but if you don't want to include nuts you can quite safely leave them out without harming the integrity, or the dignity for that matter, of your creation.

For the top I made a simple glaze of sifted confectioners' sugar, a few tablespoons of heavy cream (but you could use water or milk, if you prefer; the cream adds richness) and several judicious drops of almond extract. And while we're on the subject, I must tell you that I adore the smell of really high quality almond extract. It's just luscious.

In that same vein, I urge you to use the best cinnamon you can get your hands on for a cake like this, a cake whose whole focus and raison d'etre is the cinnamon. After trying a few brands, my personal favorite is Penzey's Extra Fancy Vietnamese Cassia. Yum. (Let me say that again for added emphasis . . . Yum.)

It's substantially more concentrated than the cheaper stuff and, like Penzey's almond extract, the scent of this cinnamon is out of this world. I mean like from another planet out of this world. Some really good planet, where the aliens bake incredible stuff, and probably even wear cute aprons.

Cinnamon Streusel Cake

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease and flour a ten-cup bundt pan (or use baking spray, which is a much easier tactic with this type of pan; it gets in all the pesky nooks and crannies, and never leaves that awful residue that regular cooking spray sometimes leaves on your good pans).

For the streusel:
1 cup AP flour
1 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1 tiny pinch of salt
1 tbsp. cinnamon
1/2 cup cold butter, cut into chunks
1 cup well-chopped pecans


For the cake:
2/3 cup unsalted butter, softened
2 cups granulated sugar
2/3 cup of sour cream
4 large eggs
1 tbsp. of vanilla extract
2 cups AP flour
1/4 tsp. baking soda

For the streusel, mix flour, brown sugar, and cinnamon in a medium-sized bowl. Cut in butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add in the pecans. Set aside.

For the cake, in a large mixer bowl, beat the sugar, butter, and sour cream for a few minutes until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each. Scrape the bowl as needed. Beat in the vanilla.

Gradually beat in the flour and baking soda on low speed until blended. Scrape the bowl down to the bottom to make sure all the flour is mixed in.

Spread half of the streusel into the bundt pan, evenly all around. Pour/spoon half of the batter evenly over the streusel. Over that, sprinkle the other half of the streusel. Cover that carefully with the remaining half of the batter. Smooth the top.

Put it in the oven on the middle rack. Check it at about 45 minutes. If the top is browning too quickly, cover it lightly with foil. Bake for about one hour total, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean (I like to check it with the toothpick in a few other spots too, just to be on the safe side).

Cool the cake in the pan for only ten minutes. Invert it onto a cooling rack to finish cooling. If you like, glaze the cake, but only after it is completely cooled.

For the glaze:

In a medium bowl, using about one and a half cups of sifted confectioners' sugar, stir in two to three tbsp. of heavy cream. Continue adding additional cream, just a teaspoon or so at a time, until the desired consistency is reached. Keep stirring until all lumps are removed and the glaze has achieved the texture you like. Want it thicker? Add more confectioners' sugar, a bit at a time. Flavor the glaze with almond extract or, if you prefer, with vanilla extract. Probably no more than 1/2 tsp. is needed at most, depending upon the strength of your extract and your own taste. Generously drizzle on the glaze, evenly all around, letting it drip down the sides of the cake.

Another glaze option is to add some cinnamon to the confectioners' sugar; mix the cinnamon into it really well before you add in the liquid. The piece of cake pictured just below has been glazed in this way and the very top of the cake was sprinkled with a tiny bit cinnamon sugar as an added garnish.

Now, before you slice the cake get out a really sharp knife. Why? Because the very top of your cake may have an especially firm toffee-like quality from the cooled caramelization of the brown sugar in that top streusel layer. It will seem especially hard and candy-like if you have not used nuts in the streusel. (The entire inside of the cake will be predictably perfect, tender, and soft though. Don't worry.) If you decide you don't like that hard aspect of the top crust, then alter your cake the next time you make it by distributing all of the streusel inside of the cake, with no streusel base-layer touching the bottom of the pan (thus no heavy carmelization will occur).

(I first saw this recipe on the McCormick Spice Company's website. I made a few minor adjustments to their formula, nothing major. What can I say about McCormick? That they have decent, affordable, everyday herbs and spices. And that's good because, let's face it, not every day can be a Penzey's day, right?)


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