Quick Blender Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins — Something Sweet to Send When You Can’t Be There

The week after a baby is born is the week you cook. Not for yourself — for the mother, who is running on two hours of sleep and a body that just did the hardest work there is. I cannot drive to Marietta. I cannot stand in Jasmine's kitchen and hand her a plate the way I wish I could. But I can cook from here and send it with love and a Sharpie label that says exactly how long to heat it and at what temperature, because I do not trust anyone to guess.

Denise and I spent Tuesday making freezer meals. Beef stew, thick with carrots and potatoes and enough gravy to soak through rice. A big pan of baked ziti because children eat pasta and David Jr. is twelve and twelve-year-old boys are basically pasta with legs. Collard greens, already seasoned, just reheat and serve. Cornbread muffins, wrapped in foil, two dozen. And a sweet potato pie because Jasmine loves sweet potato pie and a new mother deserves pie. She deserves a lot of things, but pie is the one I can put in a box.

Earl Jr. drove down Saturday to pick up the cooler. He sat in Denise's living room for three hours, eating leftover stew and telling me about Simone — how she sleeps in two-hour stretches, how David Jr. wants to hold her constantly, how Jasmine is tired but glowing. I asked if Simone looks like anybody. Earl Jr. said, "She looks like herself, Mama." I said, "That is not helpful. Babies look like somebody." He thought about it and said, "She has your chin." I don't know if that's true or if he was just being kind, but I'll take it. A chin is something.

Kayla came Thursday with Michael and Pearl — Michael is nineteen months now and Pearl is not born yet, I keep jumping ahead. Just Michael. He ate half a cornbread muffin and got crumbs in places I didn't know crumbs could reach. That boy has Earl's appetite and Devon's speed, which is a dangerous combination.

The garden is done for the year, mostly. Robert pulled the last of the peppers. The tomato vines are brown and finished. But the collard greens are still going strong because collards don't care about the calendar — they get sweeter after a frost, which is a lesson I have taken personally. Some of us get sweeter after the hard parts. Some of us were always sweet and just needed the cold to prove it.

Now go on and feed somebody.

Earl passed in 2019 on Valentine’s Day. The small widow-life is in its small seventh year now. The small house in the small Thunderbolt-neighborhood of Savannah near the marsh continues to be the small Dorothy-residence. The small house is the small place Earl maintained and where Earl built the small raised-bed-garden. The small kitchen is the small heart of the small house.

The small thirty-five years at the small Hodge Elementary School cafeteria are the small career-spine of Dorothy’s life. The small lunch-lady role had been the small everyday-presence for the small generation of Savannah kids. The small retirement in 2020 had been the small adjustment-period after the small thirty-five-year-tenure. The small Sunday-spread-at-the-Thunderbolt-house for the small grandkids is the small post-retirement-rhythm.

The small First African Baptist Church congregation continues to be the small social-and-spiritual home. The small Wednesday-night-prayer-meeting. The small Sunday-morning-service. The small choir Dorothy has sung in for thirty-two years. The small church-cookouts where Dorothy’s small contributions are the small expected-presence.

I wrapped two dozen cornbread muffins in foil for Jasmine’s cooler, but I’ll be honest — I almost slipped a second batch of these banana muffins in alongside them, because they freeze just as well and Michael ate his cornbread so fast I barely saw it happen. A quick blender recipe is the right kind of recipe for a week like that one: you’ve got a cooler to pack, a son to feed leftover stew, and a grandbaby’s chin to think about. You do not have time for a mixing bowl and a whisk. You have time to peel bananas and press a button.

Quick Blender Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins {Gluten-Free}

Prep Time: 8 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 28 minutes | Servings: 12 muffins

Ingredients

• 3 ripe bananas, peeled (about 1 1/2 cups mashed)
• 2 large eggs
• 2 cups gluten-free rolled oats
• 1/4 cup honey or pure maple syrup
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon fine salt
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 3/4 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips, divided
• Nonstick cooking spray or muffin liners

Instructions

1. Preheat oven. Heat your oven to 350°F. Grease a standard 12-cup muffin tin with nonstick spray or line with paper liners.
2. Blend the batter. Add bananas, eggs, oats, honey, vanilla, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon to a blender. Blend on medium-high for 45–60 seconds until the oats are fully ground and the batter is smooth.
3. Fold in chips. Pour the batter into a bowl and stir in 1/2 cup of the chocolate chips by hand.
4. Fill the tin. Divide batter evenly among the 12 muffin cups, filling each about 3/4 full. Scatter the remaining 1/4 cup chocolate chips over the tops.
5. Bake. Bake for 18–22 minutes, until the tops are set and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean or with just a few moist crumbs.
6. Cool. Let muffins cool in the tin for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack. Cool completely before wrapping for freezer storage.
7. To freeze. Wrap cooled muffins individually in plastic wrap, then place in a zip-top freezer bag. Label with the date and reheating instructions: microwave 45–60 seconds from frozen, or thaw overnight at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 172 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 118mg