Vegan Mini-Chocolate Chip Mini-Muffins

Atlanta fall — the first crisp morning, finally. Three days of counseling at the middle school in East Point. The work was the work.

Daddy in his apartment in the back. I brought him his coffee and his medication this morning. He grumbled. The grumble was the love. I caught the smell of Mama's seasoning blend at the stove Tuesday morning. Just for a second. The grief comes when it comes.

Cornbread in the cast iron. No sugar — Mama would haunt me. Crisp edge. Soft middle.

Marcus, 21, studying for finals at Alabama. Jasmine, 19, home from Howard for the weekend.

I sat at the kitchen table with my tea after everybody went to sleep. Just me and the quiet.

I went to the cemetery Saturday morning. Brenda's grave is on the hill at South-View. Curtis still goes most Sundays. I left a small bouquet of magnolias.

Thursday I made cornbread for a sister at church whose husband had surgery. I dropped it off at the hospital. She cried at the door. I told her, eat the cornbread, baby. The food is the saying.

Darnell sent a photo from Clarksville. The garden is producing. He grew tomatoes the size of softballs. I sent him back a photo of my sweet potato casserole. We are competitive about food now in our middle age.

Pastor preached about the prodigal son again. He preaches about that boy at least three times a year. The text is the text but every preaching is different. I cried in the second service this time. Don't ask me why.

Andre called from LA. He told the Kevin Hart story again. Twenty-some years and that boy is still telling that story. Everyone in this family is going to hear about Kevin Hart at our funerals.

Miss Ernestine called Tuesday. She's ninety-something and sharp as ever. She told me my potato salad still needs more mustard.

I made a casserole for the church potluck. The pan came back empty. That is the only review I trust.

The kids were home for the weekend. The house was loud the way it should be.

The blood pressure check was Wednesday. The numbers were borderline. The doctor wants me to walk more. I am walking more.

Tuesday evening I sat at the kitchen table with my composition notebook and worked on the cookbook. From Brenda's Kitchen — that's the working title. I cannot write the introduction without crying yet.

I had a hard counseling case at school this week. A seventh-grade girl whose mama lost her job. We talked. I gave her my number. I told her she could call.

I drove to the Walmart on Camp Creek Saturday morning. The kind of grocery run that takes two hours because you run into three people you know. Sister Patrice caught me in the produce. We talked about her grandbaby for fifteen minutes.

The neighbors had a Friday cookout this week. I brought my mac and cheese. They have come to expect this. I have come to expect this. The block is the block.

Saturday morning I had Set the Table at the Cascade Heights center. Twelve young women. We did baked chicken. One of them — Imani, sixteen — was so afraid of seasoning that she barely shook the salt. I stood next to her and put my hand over hers and said, baby, you cannot be afraid of food. We seasoned the chicken. The chicken came out right. She glowed.

Wednesday Bible study at the church. We read through Proverbs. The women in my row argued about whether wisdom is built or born. I said both. They agreed, sort of.

Cornbread is my anchor, but it’s not always what the moment calls for. When I dropped food at that hospital door and my sister cried, I thought about all the small things I’ve carried up walkways over the years — and how sometimes a little bite of something sweet says what a whole pan can’t. These vegan mini chocolate chip muffins are what I bring when I need something easy to pass, easy to eat, and easy to receive. You can tuck them in a bag, stack them on a paper plate, leave them on a doorstep. They travel like a prayer.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 22 minutes | Servings: 24 mini muffins

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup unsweetened oat milk (or any non-dairy milk)
1/3 cup neutral vegetable oil
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
1/2 cup vegan mini chocolate chips, plus a small handful for topping

Instructions

Heat the oven. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 24-cup mini muffin tin or line with paper liners.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt until evenly combined.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl or large measuring cup, stir together the oat milk, vegetable oil, vanilla extract, and apple cider vinegar. Let it sit for one minute — it will look slightly curdled. That’s right.
Combine. Pour the wet mixture into the dry and stir gently until just combined. Do not overmix; a few small lumps are fine.
Fold in the chips. Fold in the 1/2 cup of mini chocolate chips with a spatula.
Fill the tin. Spoon batter into each mini muffin cup, filling about 2/3 of the way full. Press a few extra chocolate chips on top of each one.
Bake. Bake for 11—13 minutes, until the tops are set and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Do not overbake — they will firm up as they cool.
Cool and share. Let them rest in the tin for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack. Stack them on a plate, wrap them in foil, or tuck them in a bag. Hand them to someone who needs them.

Nutrition (per serving, 2 mini muffins)

Vegan Mini-Chocolate Chip Mini-Muffins — Something Small to Leave at the Door