Carrot & Zucchini Muffins

June. Summer. The heat is back and the virus is still here and the combination of the two feels like being trapped in a pot — hot, contained, no lid off. I've been in this house for ten weeks straight, the longest I've been anywhere since I was born, and the walls are starting to feel closer. Not smaller. Closer. Like they're leaning in to listen.

I've started a project. I don't know what to call it yet — Denise calls it "the book" and Kayla calls it "the recipes" and I call it "the thing I'm doing because I can't do anything else." I'm writing down the recipes. All of them. Not just the measurements — the stories. Where they came from. Who taught them to me. What they mean. The way Mama's hands looked when she made cornbread. The way Earl's face looked when he tasted the first shrimp and grits of the season. The way Pearl's okra soup tasted on Sapelo Island. All of it.

I type with one finger on the iPad, same as always, and it takes me an hour to write what a younger person could write in ten minutes. But the slowness is part of it. The slowness means I think about every word. Every word has to earn its place, same as every ingredient in a recipe. You don't add things that don't belong. You don't use words that don't carry weight.

I wrote about the cast iron skillet today. Hattie Pearl's skillet. I wrote about how her mother gave it to her and she gave it to me and I will give it to Kayla or Monique or whoever stands at the stove next. I wrote about the seasoning — eighty years of oil and heat and food cooked with love. I wrote about how you never use soap. I wrote about how the skillet is the family Bible of the kitchen, and every meal it cooks is a verse.

Made cornbread in that skillet tonight. Butter, cornmeal, buttermilk, egg. Simple. Holy. The cornbread came out golden and the edges were crisp and the center was soft and I ate it with butter and honey and thought: this is page one. This is where the book starts.

Now go on and feed somebody.

The cornbread was page one — but the book has many pages, and every one of them starts with the same thing: simple ingredients, honest technique, and the intention to feed somebody well. These Carrot & Zucchini Muffins are the kind of recipe that belongs in the book, the kind that doesn’t ask much of you but gives back more than you put in. Same principle as the skillet: you season it with use, and it only gets better.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 22 minutes | Total Time: 37 minutes | Servings: 12 muffins

Ingredients

1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 large eggs
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
1/4 cup honey
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup shredded zucchini, excess moisture squeezed out
3/4 cup shredded carrot
1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans (optional)

Instructions

Preheat and prepare. Heat oven to 375°F. Grease a standard 12-cup muffin tin or line with paper liners. Set aside.
Combine dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the all-purpose flour, whole wheat flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg until evenly blended.
Mix wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk eggs, oil, brown sugar, honey, and vanilla extract together until the sugar is dissolved and the mixture looks smooth and uniform.
Bring it together. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently just until the flour disappears — don’t overwork it. A few lumps are fine and expected.
Fold in the vegetables. Add the squeezed zucchini and shredded carrot and fold them in with a spatula. If you’re using nuts, add them now.
Fill the tin. Divide the batter evenly among the 12 muffin cups, filling each about 3/4 of the way full.
Bake. Bake for 20 to 22 minutes, until the tops are golden and a toothpick inserted into the center of a muffin comes out clean.
Cool and serve. Let the muffins rest in the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack. Serve warm or at room temperature. They keep well wrapped at room temperature for 2 days, or freeze beautifully for up to 2 months.

Nutrition (per serving)

Carrot & Zucchini Muffins — Simple and Holy, Just Like Page One