Martin Luther King Day. Three years since the day I sat in the community service and heard Calvin preach "We are somebody's going on." That phrase has stayed with me for three years—I have used it in the blog, I have used it in the cooking class, I have used it with Destiny when Destiny was in a hard place with her work—and today, at the joint service, Calvin preached it again, not the same sermon but the same truth, because the truth doesn't expire. We are somebody's going on. Marcus's going on, Bernice's going on, the going-on of every person who stood in a Birmingham church and was afraid and stood there anyway. We are the standing.
I made a pan of sweet potato biscuits for the post-service community meal, the joint meal that three churches put on together, and they were the first thing gone. Sweet potato biscuits are specific and particular in a way that plain biscuits aren't—the orange color, the slight sweetness, the softness that comes from the sweet potato starch—and people remember them the way they remember specific things, the way you remember a specific person's scent, the way memory lives in the particular rather than the general. Someone came back to the table specifically to ask what was in the biscuits. I told her. She wrote it on her phone. I thought about Bernice and about the women who wrote down things at church suppers and I thought: the knowledge travels however it needs to travel. Phone notes are fine. As long as someone is learning it.
The sweet potato biscuits were the thing I brought that day, and that recipe will come — but what stayed with me after the meal, after the woman wrote the ingredients on her phone and walked away, was the whole shape of that exchange: someone tasted something, wanted to carry it forward, and wrote it down. That’s what these oatmeal muffins are for me too. I started making them for the members of our cooking class who needed a gluten-free option so nobody felt set apart at the table, and now they show up every time I need something honest and portable and good — something I can hand to somebody and say, here, this is for you. Phone note, recipe card, whatever it takes.
Oatmeal Muffins Gluten Free
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 22 min | Total Time: 37 min | Servings: 12
Ingredients
- 2 cups certified gluten-free rolled oats
- 1 cup gluten-free oat flour (or blend rolled oats to a fine flour)
- 1/3 cup brown sugar, packed
- 2 teaspoons baking powder
- 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
- 1/4 teaspoon fine salt
- 2 large eggs
- 1 cup buttermilk (or 1 cup milk plus 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar, rested 5 minutes)
- 1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
- 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- 1/2 cup raisins or dried cranberries (optional)
Instructions
- Preheat — prepare pan. Heat your oven to 375°F. Grease a standard 12-cup muffin tin well, or line with paper liners.
- Combine dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the rolled oats, oat flour, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt until evenly mixed.
- Whisk wet ingredients. In a separate bowl or large measuring cup, whisk together the eggs, buttermilk, melted butter, and vanilla extract.
- Fold together. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir gently with a spatula until just combined — a few streaks are fine. Fold in raisins or cranberries if using. Do not overmix.
- Rest the batter. Let the batter sit for 5 minutes so the oats absorb some of the liquid. This gives the muffins their characteristic soft, hearty texture.
- Fill and bake. Divide batter evenly among the 12 cups, filling each about 3/4 full. Bake 20–22 minutes, until the tops are set and golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
- Cool before serving. Let muffins cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack. Serve warm or at room temperature. They travel well and hold their texture for two days at room temperature in an airtight container.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 185 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 160mg