Behold the lovely muffin.
I suppose it’s been some time since our last analysis.
One could lick east-west-wise or north-to-south, all depending.
Everything depends.
The muffin depends pendulously.
The muffin is best eaten upside-down, for the succulent nub at the top should be taken a satisfying
last.
Muffins are best cooked-up at home.
Too many go for that corporate look, slick and humongous.
You can dress up any muffin with frilly icings or powdered sugars, with flavored glazes and jellies
and sauces galore, but they are just as good–or better–bare and all by themselves.
One of life’s greatest pleasures is unwrapping a muffin.
Slowly revealing each fold and curve, peeling the thin material, allows one to brush up against the
soft flesh of the muffin, tickling the senses for the sweet fun to come.
Sometimes, a wrapper proves sticky or hard to remove; this is a good opportunity to use the more
delicate devices of the teeth and tongue.
But a muffin can be too sweet. A too sweet muffin should be suspect; what foul screw-up is the
baker trying to hide with all that cloying flavor?
Some prefer their muffins a bit cool or dry, but I say a muffin can never be too moist or too warm.
Some muffins were molded all wrong and just lay right over as soon as they get to the plate. If a
muffin can be said to have character, the layover kind has none. A good muffin can stand up for
itself.
This is not to say that a good muffin does not like to be eaten–quite the contrary. A good muffin
just has a sense of itself, a quiet propriety.
A good muffin can be small or big, tightly packed of gushing over its wrapper a little, but if it’s
full of air or falls apart, you’ll be in for a dissatisfying experience, either one of substanceless
unfulfilment or distracted messiness.
Some even like their muffins super-sized, and some muffin-makers go a bit overboard. Then there
are the mini-muffins or the bite-sized. But these are issues best suited to individual appetite. Be
wary, though, of those who dip their fingers in the batter; that is considered by most a downright
crime, an abuse of the confection before it reaches its solid, delectable form.