Tuesday, November 18, 2014

pineapple coconut protein shake with greens



34 weeks pregnant over here and counting. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you people have now begun to literally point at me and shout, "You're HUGE!"

So there's that.

At the hardware store several weeks ago, an employee bustled past me and as he did, he pointed at my belly and shouted his guess at my due date. Like I was a walking how-many-jellybeans-are-in-the-jar contest. It would've (maybe?) been funny had his guess not been TWO MONTHS EARLY.

You know how you're not supposed to EVER ask a woman if she's pregnant? How that is like an Unwritten Rule of Being a Good Person? Well, once one has confirmed she is pregnant, that shouldn't give one carte blanche to say/ask her anything without using one's noodle. These juicy items come to mind:

"YOU'RE HUGE!!"
"You must be ready to POP!"
"Any day now, huh?"
"What are you, nine months?"
"You sure there's only one in there?!"
"You still have six more weeks to go? WOW!"
"How much weight have you gained so far?"**

(**My father poses this question whenever we talk now (which is often). It's like he's my Overeaters Anonymous sponsor. It never fails to make me flinch. And every time, I consider trying to make a joke and dodge the topic. But he's my dad and I know he means well, so inevitably I just tell him my weight. Which I'm realizing now is why he probably keeps asking me.)

Can we add these types of things to the Unwritten Person Rules? None of these things help us Preggos. Here are some handy replacements:

"Can I get you a chair?"
"You're glowing!"
"You don't even look pregnant from the back!"
"I have an extra half-sandwich here with your name on it."
"Another Arnold Palmer?"
"Want me to tie your shoes for you?"
"You have never looked so sexy!"

Consider this a public service announcement on behalf of Preggos everywhere. Bonus: I will be genuinely excited if you say any of the above to me especially if you also forget to ask me how much weight I've gained.

---------------------------------------------------------

Pineapple Coconut Protein Shake with Greens
yields 1 large or 2 smaller shakes

Some of my baby websites are telling me that this week, the child inside me is the size of a large pineapple, so let's toast to that with some pineapple protein shakes! These are so good, pregnant or no.

6 oz. unsweetened coconut milk
4 oz. water
1 cup frozen pineapple chunks
1/2 frozen banana
2 heaping cups fresh spinach
1 T flax meal (ground flax seeds)
1 T coconut oil
1 scoop vanilla protein powder

Place all ingredients in a blender and blend! Add ice if your fruit is not frozen.


xoxoxo
jolie

Friday, October 31, 2014

pumpkin spiced rice krispie treats with brown butter



Happy Halloween, Joeycakers!! What fun and spooky things are you up to? One of my acting students asked me what I was gonna be for Halloween and I told them: A Pregnant Lady Laying on Her Couch Eating. So it's gonna be a pretty amazing night over here at our house. And I say that with zero irony.

Speaking of Halloween-amazing, I heard the scariest thing on NPR this week: There is a sub-genre of erotic romance novels that involves heroines traveling back to prehistoric times and having good times* with dinosaurs.

(*super raunchy sexy sex)

I'll just let that sit a second while your brain implodes.

Ok, ready? Here is a synopsis of "Taken by the T-Rex", written by Christie Sims (who seems to have cornered the Dinosaur Erotica market):

Drin is her tribe's chief huntress; she lives for the thill of the hunt. Men and sex hold no allure for her, as Drin has never found a partner to satisfy her. When a T-Rex descends upon her village, Drin taunts the beast, giving her tribe mates time to flee. As she runs, leading it through a gauntlet of traps, the thrill of the hunt soars through her blood, leaving her wet with desire. When the angry T-Rex corners the huntress in a box canyon, it seems more interested in her wet womanhood than in her flesh.

Other titillating titles by Sims include "Ravished by the Raptor", "Taken by the Pterodactyl", "In The Velociraptor's Nest", and maybe my favorite, "Dino Park After Dark". Here's the cover of "Ravished By The Triceratops" (somebody's learning photoshop!):


I suppose all ladies should feel free to explore their deep, dark fantasies, whether they include extinct predators or couch-laying. So more power to Christie Sims and her loyal readers. (And to me.)

For a different kind of titillating fantasy, check out these autumnal Rice Krispie Treats. They are so good they'll make you forget you can't be caressed by a sexy Brontosaurus in real life.


Pumpkin Spiced Rice Krispie Treats with Brown Butter
recipe adapted from The Kitchn
makes one batch (about 12)

There are two methods here. One uses actual pumpkin and is a bit more high-maintenance, one just uses the spices and is easy-peasy. Read the whole deal and follow your heart.

4T unsalted butter
1/4 cup canned pumpkin puree**
1-10oz bag mini marshmallows
1/4 t vanilla extract
1/2 t pumpkin pie spice
pinch kosher salt
6 cups rice krispies

Butter a 9x13 (or 8x11 or 9x9) baking pan and set aside. Over medium-low heat in a heavy saucepan or dutch oven, melt the butter until it begins to brown, shaking the pan every so often. Add the pumpkin puree and warm it through (it will sputter at first from all the water content). Fold in the marshmallows and stir until melted. Add the vanilla, pumpkin pie spice and salt, then remove from heat. Allow this mixture to cool to room temperature, about 25 minutes (otherwise, you'll have sad, soggy treats). Add the cereal and stir until combined. Silicone spatulas work really well for this. Press the mixture into your buttered pan and then pop it into the refrigerator until set. This helps to further avoid sogginess. Cut and enjoy.

**Note: if you're not into the whole waiting-until-room-temperature thing (I get it), omit the pumpkin puree all together and just use the vanilla/pumpkin pie spice/salt. You can stir the cereal into the melty marshmallow mixture immediately and not bother with the fridge.

xoxo
jolie

{book title photo from Buzzfeed}

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

An Open Letter To My Pregnancy Body Pillow


Dear Pregnancy Body Pillow,

We had a rocky start. You were a hand-me-down, a second-class-citizen, cast aside by a good friend with a newborn. She was eager to return to belly-sleeping so you got the swift boot. I was a skeptic, set in my pre-pregnancy sleep ways but I had heard promising claims. I experimented with you in the glow of my first pre-natal weeks, before I truly needed you, and during our inaugural evening together I had the highest hopes. Unfortunately, we wound up wrestling until the wee morning hours when I kicked you out of my bed, and there you remained, coiled on the floor gathering dust until I reached the beginning of my third trimester.

It was then I got word about the dangers of back-sleeping (turns out the vena cava is not a wine bar), and my belly was becoming increasingly unwieldy. So I picked you up (that was no picnic with said belly), dusted you off (literally), and begrudgingly decided to give you a second chance. Annoyingly, you come not only with a C-curve, but a learning curve. It took me a full fortnight to get acquainted with your squirrely disposition. While you claim you'll bend to my will, I now see it's your way or the highway. You leave me merely two nighttime options: clutch you like a needy child latches onto the leg of his apologetic mother, or lean into you backwards the way a mangy dog demands back scratches. I simultaneously desire you and feel betrayed by your limitations, like a vibrator whose batteries are dying.

But here's the thing: I need you now. I can't do it without you. And I admit that I'm weak. My mother-friends have said,"Don't bother with the body pillow, just use a regular one between your legs," but it's no use. I want you between my legs, PBP. I hate myself for loving you.

Despite your ability to make side-sleeping slightly less horrible, you have copious liabilities. Yet I keep coming back to you like an aloof boyfriend or straight-across bangs. You're hot. Like polyester-blend hot. I wake up clammy and not without the type of skin irritations caused by synthetic fabrics. And getting out of you is a nightmare. Your looped ends trip up my already-compromised ability to move gracefully. Do you enjoy making me feel foolish twelve times a night when I'm forced to get up and pee? Do you?

And pray tell, where am I supposed to stash you in the daytime? If you stay inside the bed, I get small heart attacks every time I enter the bedroom, as my peripheral vision assumes you're a dead body. On top of the bed, you're a pathetic eyesore, a giant, curly pillow-turd that tarnishes my bedroom's minimalistic, non-turd design scheme. I have to hide you like a Real Housewives addiction or a penchant for high-caloric coffee drinks with extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle.

My husband calls you The Interloper. You literally come between us. And that night when he came back from the bathroom half-asleep and rubbed your spine for a full minute before realizing it wasn't his wife's? That didn't help your case. I had to stick up for you, PBP. And it made me feel sad and small. What have I become?

Hating that I can't quit you,
Jolie

{This letter was also published in the Huffington Post}

Saturday, October 18, 2014

roasted butternut squash soup


I downloaded an app on my phone that gives me daily pregnancy updates and this was yesterday's:

"Do your legs look like tree trunks? Swollen feet and ankles may not be sexy, but it's what most pregnant women are wearing in any given season. To reduce that puffy look, try to take a five-minute walk around your house or office at least once an hour. A quick dance works, too, and may take your mind off your fat feet, so crank up the tunes, Mama!"

Real nice, huh? Hey fatty! Never mind that yesterday I told you to put your feet up and get some rest. Quit being such a lazy ass. Get up and stretch those tree trunks!

As a pregnant woman you unwittingly enter the symptom lottery. I've been lucky enough to avoid cankles (*crosses fingers*) but have come upon my own fun set of pregnancy surprises. Among other unsavory things, bending over is officially over. At 29 weeks, this belly seriously gets in the way. I've developed a new soundtrack of moans and groans and umphs and arrrggghhs for getting out of bed or off the couch or to reach something low in the fridge. Forget about putting on socks or shaving any nether regions.

The hunger is also COLOSSAL. Like bottomless-pit yearnings that physically hurt, and a deep, fierce reverence for food and stuffing my face like a homeless dog. The other day while eating in a Panera, I dropped a potato chip on the floor and was faced with a dilemma of epic proportions. Until pregnancy, never would I consider eating something off the floor (in a Panera, no less). All my life I've been able and not willing and here I was completely game and yet incapacitated. Even had I attempted, and could've actually reached it, my pregnancy-onset clumsiness gave me no guarantees that I would be able to grasp it in the first eighteen tries.

Alas, I let the chip go. It was a real milestone in embracing my limitations. On the flip side, I could've asked my dining companion to reach it for me and that might have proven a great lesson in asking for help. And also choosing not to be affected by the sharp judgement of others for eating food off the questionable floor of a sub-par franchised sandwich restaurant.

Anyway.

This same mildly insulting and contradictory app gives me weekly updates on which fruit or vegetable matches the size of my baby's growth (a fig! a pear! as long as an ear of corn!) and had the balls to tell me my baby was the size of an eggplant for 3 weeks straight. I looked online to cross-reference and found mention of a butternut squash. So, in honor of his size at 29 weeks, I cooked something the size of my baby! (Let's pretend this is not awkward in the least.)





Roasted Butternut Squash Soup
adapted from Chow.com
serves 6-8

There's a bit of time involved here with the roasting but it makes for such a sweet richness in the final mix. Plus, there's no awkward peeling and dicing an unwieldy squash. Also: THIS SMELLS SO FREAKING GOOD WHILE IT'S COOKING THAT IT WILL TAUNT YOU WHETHER OR NOT YOU ARE GROWING A HUMAN.

2 medium butternut squash (buy about 4.5 pounds altogether)
4 T butter, divided
2 large granny smith apples, cored, peeled and diced
1/2 large yellow onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
10 fresh sage leaves
4 cups (1 quart) chicken broth
1-1/2 cups water
kosher salt
black pepper
freshly grated nutmeg to taste
cinnamon to taste
greek yogurt or extra virgin olive oil for serving (optional)

Preheat oven to 425F. Place each squash in the microwave (one at a time) for 2 minutes to soften, then cut in half longways and remove the seeds. Put all 4 halves on a rimmed baking sheet. Melt 1-1/2 T butter and brush it all over the flesh, then salt and pepper generously. Roast until knife tender, about 50 minutes. Meanwhile, in a large soup pot over medium heat, melt the remaining 2-1/2 T butter and sauté the apples, onion, garlic and sage until soft, 7-9 minutes, stirring occasionally. When the squash is cool enough to handle, scoop out the flesh (discard the skins) and add it to the apple mixture. Add the chicken stock, water and a good big pinch of salt and pepper. Bring the pot to a boil, partially cover it, and turn it down to a simmer for about 15-20 minutes, breaking up the squash with a spoon if there are any chunks. Blend with an immersion blender or in a regular blender in batches, taking care not to burn yourself! Return to the pot. Taste for salt. Start with 1/2 t nutmeg and 1 t cinnamon and add more to your liking. The salt and the spices at the end really bring everything together so make sure you add enough. Serve with a dollop of yogurt or a drizzle of olive oil.


Happy Autumn!
xoxo
jolie

Saturday, September 20, 2014

blueberry oatmeal muffins and a gripping story about curtain shopping


Part of my pregnancy-induced nesting mayhem this past week involved scouring Los Angeles for the perfect new bedroom curtains (natch). After doing loads of reconnaissance online and finally making a curtain decision, I called a Pottery Barn store near me to see what they had in stock. I got a busy signal around 19 times, so my giant belly and I decided to go and see for ourselves. When I got there I fought the urge to ask them if their phone was off the hook. Or if they had a teenaged employee hogging the line.

I bee-lined for the drapes, immediately found what I wanted, and was promptly greeted by a saleslady whose cheer was surprisingly impressive.
"Hi, hon! How can I help you?" She asked.
"Yeah, hi. I need two panels of the 96" white sheer linen drapes," I said, pointing to the drape display in case she didn't understand words.
Her face twisted like she smelled rotten garbage.
"Oooh. I think we're out of those. Want me to check for you?"
"Yes, please." 
Using a metal cane, she hobbled out from behind the counter wearing a giant foot cast.
"I'll just go check in the back, hon. Give me a sec," she said.
"Step on it," I said.
She froze. The garbage face was back again, but this time much stinkier.
"Excuse me?" 
"Oh, God, no. I am so sorry. I was just kidding," I backpedaled. And then for good measure: "I hope your foot's okay."
She didn't crack a smile. This is when I became sure her cheer was false.
"I'll be right back," she grumbled.
At least 47 minutes elapsed. Then she slowly hobbled out from the storeroom and back to her counter.
"Just as I thought: we're out," she said.
"Shoot. How about another store close by?" I asked.
She stared and sighed. And then reluctantly clickety-clacked on her computer with her acrylics.
"Looks like the whole district's out," she said.
"That sounds serious," I said.
She didn't reply.
 "Well, can't I just order them online?" I asked.
More hostile clickety-clacking. If she got sick of Pottery Barn she'd make a great ticket agent at the airport.
"Nope. Says here the whole country's out," she said. 
"What? The entire country is out of white sheer linen drapes?" I asked.
"'Fraid so," she said, the tiniest smile forming on her thin lips.   
Just then, another customer sauntered up to counter to purchase some Halloween plates. She eyed Stink Face's bulky cast.
"Oof. Ouch! What'd you do? Break your ankle?" She asked, pointing to it.
Stinky was done. She sighed deeply and didn't attempt to hide her irritation.
"No," she snapped. "Just above the ankle."
Halloween Plates didn't take the hint. She pressed on.
"How the heck didja do that?"
"I slipped on my porch," said Stinky, stone faced.
Halloween Plates shook her head and whistled slowly.
"Been there, done that," she said, looking to me like haven't we all?
I didn't answer. There was a long pause while Stinky rang up Halloween Plates's Halloween plates.
"Well. Thanks anyway," I said as I backed toward the door. "Good luck with your foot."
Stinky gave me one more small stink eye. Then I nodded to Halloween Plates.
"And Happy Halloween."


No one will give you a stink face if you bake them these muffins. Warm baked goods pretty much guarantee zero stink faces. You can quote me on that.



Blueberry Oatmeal Yogurt Muffins
yields 12

Using yogurt helps keep these deliciously moist and adds a little tangy zip. Sprinkling turbinado sugar and a few oats on top before baking gives these babies some nice sweetness and texture. And feel free to use a mixture of berries instead--raspberries are particularly great. This is the perfect use for frozen fruit and you can just mix it in without thawing.

3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
2 t baking powder
1/4 t baking soda
1/2 t kosher salt
1 t ground cinnamon
1/4 t ground nutmeg
1 egg
6 T butter, melted
8 oz. plain yogurt (you can sub buttermilk here if you like)
1 cup fresh or frozen (don't thaw) blueberries or mixed berries
turbinado sugar and extra oats for sprinkling on top before baking (optional)

Preheat oven to 400F. Spray a muffin tin with cooking spray or line with paper liners. In a medium/large bowl, combine the first nine ingredients. Whisk together and set aside. In a separate bowl, lightly beat the egg. Add the yogurt and melted butter and mix well. Add the wet ingredients to the dry, stirring just until everything is incorporated. Scoop the batter  into the tins, divvying it up for 12 muffins. Bake for 20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let the pan cool on a rack for 5-10 minutes and then remove the muffins, cooling another 20 minutes. Serve warm.

You can also bake muffins now and freeze them for later. Here's how.

Happy Weekend, loves!
xoxo
jolie

P.S. I'm not even a mother yet and I find this tumblr site to be amazingly funny:)

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

a handful of thoughts from the mind of a preggo


Guys, this pregnancy is ON. Tomorrow I'll be six months along and there's no turning back. My auditions have tapered off to a slow drip of obscure roles for women who are either perpetually seated or attending baby showers.

It's a bit of a relief. I was going to these castings wearing one of the two super drape-y tops I own, sidestepping into the room and then holding my script in front of my belly. This worked surprisingly well for several weeks until I started noticing people's eyes flicker down almost imperceptibly to my bump, and I was convinced they believed me to have a rare disease whose horrible side effects include a giant torso goiter. Over time, all this goiter suspicion pushed me to come out to my agents. Now the cat is officially out of the bag, the drape-y tops have gone the way of the Dodo, and I'm currently designing a (tight) T-shirt that says "It's a baby, not a goiter!"

Perhaps because I have a bit more time on my hands now, the nesting effect has set in BIG TIME. I've been in this gotta-fix-the-house haze, trying to complete any possible task that I've been putting off for years (painting the baseboards! Changing the filter for the ice cube water!) or might need to happen in the next 9 months (eye exam! Teeth cleaning!). I realize it's the futile desire to control circumstances I can, so that when all hell breaks loose (aka newborn arrival), I'll be better equipped to handle it. Like if I have the most organized spice drawer and/or freshly painted and put-together linen closet, it'll somehow be easier to sleep only ten minutes a night and be drenched in spit-up. Even as I write this I see the ridiculousness of it and yet I still kinda believe it to be true. Anyway, it feels good to have a focus for all of my crazy life-will-soon-never-be-the-same energy, even if it's deciding on paint colors or learning about pile height in different types of rugs. I mean, there's only so many books on pregnancy, labor and swaddling a lady can absorb. Someone asked me recently if I'd thought about which parenting style I subscribed to and I realized I spend more time these days legitimately pondering the best chicken salad sandwich in Los Angeles (BTW, Food Lab FTW).

All this to say: one thing at a time, people. Whether it's paint colors, co-sleeping or chicken salad. One thing at a time.

Another thing that's been on my mind lately is that while I poke fun at all of this stuff and truly enjoy the humor in all of our (my) human experiences, pregnancy included, I've been in such appreciation and awe and joy at the miracle of all that is going on in my body and heart. It's heavenly. And I've been a little reluctant to effusively write about it because I'm so sensitive to the fertility-focused. I don't want to hurt the feelings of those who are yearning for this experience (as I was for SO long). I suppose it's impossible not to push buttons or have our buttons pushed by others around topics that we're super focused on. But we need to put our joy out there into the world and not stifle it, right? So: Here's to compassion. And to joy. And to expressing it with the best of intentions.

Hope you're having a wonderful week so far.

xoxo
jolie

P.S. Thank you again for all the well wishes and congratulations!

P.P.S. Do yourself a favor and do not ever google 'goiter'.

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

quinoa muffins with chocolate, banana and coconut


A CONVERSATION BETWEEN ME AND AN IMAGINED AMALGAM OF ALL PERSONS WITH WHOM I'VE DISCUSSED MY PREGNANCY SO FAR



AMALGAM: CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ME: Thank you so much! I'm truly thrilled. David and I are so excited.

AMALGAM: How are you feeling?!

ME: Great!

AMALGAM: You're so chubby already!

ME: Excuse me?

AMALGAM: Wow--I didn't pop that much until 25 weeks AT LEAST. Here, let me show you a picture.

ME: …Oh. Yeah, you looked great.

AMALGAM: How are you feeling?

ME: A-Ok!

AMALGAM: Did you get sick at all?

ME: Nope. I was really lucky that way.

AMALGAM: Do you know what you're having?

ME: A human!

AMALGAM: No, silly.  I mean a boy? Or a girl?

ME: A boy.

AMALGAM: Oh! How fun! Boys are AMAZING. *Whispers* SOOOOO much easier than girls.

ME: Bonus!

AMALGAM: How are you feeling?

ME: Super!

AMALGAM: When was the first day of your last period?

ME: What now?

AMALGAM: Do you know the day you conceived? Like the exact day you guys did it?

ME: Um. Well, there was a range of days in there.

AMALGAM: How are you feeling?

ME: Awesome!

AMALGAM: Was your pregnancy planned?

ME: I don't even know your last name and I just met you.

AMALGAM: I just thought maybe you've been trying forEVER and so you're really relieved you're FINALLY pregnant.

ME: Again, I've never seen you before five minutes ago.

AMALGAM: Turn around.

ME: Hmm?

AMALGAM: Do a 360, Lady! Nice! I'll bet your husband likes that extra back there. More to grab onto. Ha ha ha!

ME: I hope you're right?

AMALGAM: How are you feeling?

ME: Tip-top!

AMALGAM: Wait: how far along are you?

ME: 21 weeks.

AMALGAM: Wow, you still look amazing.

ME: Still?

AMALGAM: Any names picked out?

ME: Believe it or not, I think we've got him named already.

AMALGAM: ….WELL????

ME: We're not really telling anyone the name.

AMALGAM: What? Why the hell not?

ME: We've decided to keep it under wraps until he's born.

AMALGAM: You can tell ME though, right? I won't tell anyone.

ME: We're gonna keep it a secret for now.

AMALGAM: Boo! Tell me the name!!!

ME: Sorry.

AMALGAM: *Pouts awkwardly*

ME: …

AMALGAM: You feel good?

ME: Yep!

AMALGAM: You pooping?

ME: …That's…wow…

AMALGAM: Are you guys gonna have another one?

ME: …I think we'll start with the one.

AMALGAM: It'd be great if you could have a girl next.

ME: I'll see what I can do.

AMALGAM: You might wanna get on that though, if you know what I mean.

ME: …

AMALGAM: Tick tock…*repeatedly pokes at wrist*

ME: I actually knew what you meant.

AMALGAM: Are you planning on natural childbirth? You HAVE to have a natural childbirth.

ME: It'd be awesome if it unfolded that way.

AMALGAM: Oh, just get the epidural, honey.

ME: …Ok...

AMALGAM: You HAVE to meet my doula! She's amazing.

ME: …Ok…

AMALGAM: And make sure you have your birth plan in order.

ME: …Ok...

AMALGAM: Did you know baby doctors secretly hate birth plans? They totally judge you for them. Just show up and roll with the punches.

ME: …Ok…

AMALGAM: How are you feeling?

ME: Like making muffins alone with my baby.



Quinoa Muffins with Chocolate, Banana, and Coconut
makes about 12

These took some trial and error to get right but were so worth the tinkering. They take a bit of planning (black bananas, leftover quinoa) but man, they are crazy delicious. I'm certain the quinoa and chocolate cancel each other out.

3/4 cup whole wheat flour
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 t salt
1/2 t baking soda
1/2 t baking powder
1 stick (1/2 cup) butter, at room temperature
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 super ripe (read: black) bananas, mashed with a fork
2 eggs
1 t vanilla
1/2 cup unsweetened shredded coconut
1 cup cooked quinoa (this is about 1/3 dry)
1 cup chopped bittersweet chocolate (or chocolate chips)
turbinado sugar (Sugar-In-The-Raw) for sprinkling (optional)

Preheat oven to 400F and paper or grease a muffin tin. In a medium bowl, combine the flours, salt, baking soda and baking powder. Whisk well and set aside. In an electric mixer, cream the butter and the sugar until light and fluffy. Add the bananas and the eggs, mixing and scraping down the sides after each addition. Add the dry ingredient mixture a bit at a time, mixing until just combined. Stir in the coconut, quinoa and chocolate. Use an ice cream scoop to drop the batter into your muffin tins. Sprinkle with turbinado sugar and bake for 20ish minutes or until the tops are golden and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Serve warm for optimal deliciousness.

(Did you know you can also make a batch of these and freeze them? Bake muffins and cool completely. Then place them in a plastic freezer bag, squeezing as much of the air out as possible. When you're ready for a muffin, preheat oven to 350F, pop a muffin or two into a muffin tin and bake/warm until heated through.)

xoxo
jolie

P.S. THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the kind words and congratulations! I am so blown away by all the support and love and I feel it ALL. You guys are the best ever. Giant hugs and love to you……………xo

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