Mini Cinnamon Sugar Pumpkin Muffins

October. Diane turns forty-one on November seventh but the birthday feels irrelevant this year — a date on a calendar, a number that increments, nothing compared to the numbers that matter now, which are the numbers the doctor gives and the numbers of days and the numbers of jars left on the shelf and the number of times I can drive to Grinnell before the drives stop being visits and start being vigils.

I made butternut squash soup for Mom — the gentle soup, the easy-to-eat soup, the soup for a body that is retreating from solid food the way a tide retreats from a shore. The squash was roasted soft, pureed smooth, seasoned carefully, because Marlene's palate is still Marlene's palate even as her appetite shrinks, and if the soup is going to be small, the flavor had better be large. She ate most of a bowl. She said, "Good squash." Two words. Worth the drive.

Roger and I talked on the porch Saturday evening — a rare extended conversation, rare because Roger is not a man of extended conversations and because the porch conversations have been getting shorter as the evenings get colder. He said, "She's not going to beat this." Not a question. A statement. The farmer's assessment: the crop is failing. The yield will be short. The numbers don't lie. I said, "I know, Dad." He said, "What do we do?" I said, "We feed her. We sit with her. We be here." He said, "That's enough?" I said, "That's everything." He looked at the fields — the former Weber fields, dark in the dusk, the soybeans harvested, the stubble remaining — and he nodded, the single nod of a man who has accepted the weather.

Emma called from Des Moines. She wants to visit Grandma. She wants to draw her — a portrait, from life, because Emma's pandemic art series is family portraits and Marlene is family and Marlene's face is the face Emma wants to draw before the face changes more. I said yes. I said, bring your pencils. I said, bring your patience. I said, Grandma will sit for you because Grandma sits now, that's what she does, she sits and she watches and she directs and she loves and the sitting is the thing you can draw.

When I’m in that kitchen in Grinnell — roasting squash, stirring soup, trying to make flavor large enough to fill a small bowl — I always bake something alongside it, something for the counter, something for Roger to pick up without being asked. These mini cinnamon sugar pumpkin muffins have become that thing: small enough that Mom can manage one without it feeling like a task, warm enough that the whole house smells like October should smell, sweet enough to feel like a gift. I bring a dozen every time now. She doesn’t always eat them, but she always notices them, and noticing is enough.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 27 min | Servings: 24 mini muffins

Ingredients

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 cup pumpkin puree (not pumpkin pie filling)
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup brown sugar, packed
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 large egg
1/4 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

For the cinnamon sugar coating:

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

Instructions

Preheat. Heat oven to 350°F. Grease a 24-cup mini muffin tin thoroughly or line with mini paper liners.
Mix dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger until combined.
Mix wet ingredients. In a separate large bowl, whisk together pumpkin puree, granulated sugar, brown sugar, oil, egg, milk, and vanilla until smooth and uniform.
Combine. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir gently until just combined — do not overmix. A few small lumps are fine.
Fill and bake. Spoon batter into the prepared mini muffin cups, filling each about 2/3 full. Bake for 10–13 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the tops spring back when lightly touched.
Cool briefly. Let muffins cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack. They should still be warm for coating.
Coat in cinnamon sugar. Whisk together the granulated sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl. Working one at a time, brush each warm muffin lightly with melted butter, then roll or dip in the cinnamon sugar to coat. Return to the rack.
Serve. Serve warm or at room temperature. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Mini Cinnamon Sugar Pumpkin Muffins — Small Bites of Warmth for the People We Love Most