Martha Stewart Morning Glory Muffins Leave a Comment on I Tried Martha Stewart’s Morning Glory Muffins, and They Just… Helped
It wasn’t raining. It wasn’t sunny. Just that middle kind of Maine morning where the sky looks like it forgot to show up.
I wasn’t hungry, not really. But the carrots were getting bendy, and there was a single banana on the counter that had started to freckle in a way that felt personal.
So I grated. Mashed. Stirred. Didn’t expect much. But these muffins—Martha calls them Morning Glory—felt like something kind was happening. Nothing fancy. Nothing dramatic. Just… kindness in a cup.
What the Original Looked Like
Her Highness doesn’t overdo this one. Flour, oats, brown sugar. A little nutmeg, which surprised me. Raisins if you want them (I did).
She uses olive oil. Skim milk. A banana. Four whole carrots, grated like memory. The recipe feels like it was meant to be made quietly, with the radio on low.
They bake fast—twenty-something minutes at 400°F. No streusel. No swirl. Just muffins. Solid.
Not trying to impress. Just trying to feed you.
What I Did Differently
My banana was overripe—borderline banana bread status. I used it anyway. Didn’t pack the brown sugar as much as she probably meant. Forgot to soak the raisins. Used old nutmeg I found in the back of the spice drawer. Still smelled sweet.
I didn’t change much. Didn’t need to. Just made them like I was making anything else.
The Way It Happened in My Kitchen
Mae was still sleeping. The floor was cold. I stirred the oats in slow, thinking about nothing. Or everything. I can’t tell the difference lately.
The carrots turned the batter the color of sunset through lace curtains. I tasted it off the spoon. Just once. It was warm even before the oven touched it.
Scooped into the tin with my favorite spoon—the one with the chip in the handle. Baked until the edges turned golden and the center stopped looking shy.
They came out humble. Soft. A little sweet. Like the kind of breakfast that doesn’t interrupt you when you’re thinking.
A Few Things I Learned While They Baked
Grated carrots make everything feel like effort was made. Bananas, when overripe, forgive everything. Oats soak up sadness better than most people.
What I Did With the Extras
Ate one warm. Wrapped two in foil for later. Mae took one to school without saying anything. That felt like a win.
Would I Make It Again?
Yes. Maybe next week. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe just when the house feels too quiet.
That’s As Much As I Remember
They were gone by nightfall. But the warmth stayed.
If you need something softer, I made a blueberry buckle last week that felt like someone remembering you.
I Tried Martha Stewart’s Morning Glory Muffins, and They Just… Helped
FAQs
Can I Use Pre-Shredded Carrots?
you could. but don’t. the fresh ones give it soul.
Do I Have To Use Banana?
no, but it helps. adds sweetness and softness. like a hug you don’t have to explain.
Are They Sweet?
just enough. not cupcake-sweet. just breakfast-sweet.
Can I Skip The Raisins?
sure. but they surprise you in a good way.
How Long Do They Keep?
a few days in the fridge. longer in the freezer. even cold, they taste like effort.
Difficulty:BeginnerPrep time: 15 minutesCook time: 25 minutesRest time: minutesTotal time: 40 minutesServings:12 servingsCalories:270 kcal Best Season:Suitable throughout the year
Description
Soft, steady, and gently sweet—these muffins didn’t change my life. But they steadied it.
Ingredients
Instructions
Preheat the oven to 400°F (200°C). coat a muffin tin with spray or line with papers.
Mix the dry ingredients. flour, sugar, soda, powder, salt, nutmeg. stir like it’s a ritual.
Stir in oats and raisins. they’ll disappear into the mix like old memories.
Add the wet stuff. olive oil, egg, milk, banana, carrots. all at once. all in.
Stir gently. don’t overthink it. the batter should look like something trying its best.
Scoop into muffin cups. ¼ cup per slot.
Bake for 23–25 minutes. they’ll smell ready before they are. trust the toothpick.
Cool a little. then eat while warm or let them wait. they’re patient.
