a toast to you | cardamom + pistachio layer cake

I had every intention of writing this really long, heartfelt post and I actually started it. Then I thought about whose day I was celebrating and I went back and deleted it all, because that really isn't mum's thing. For her birthday, every year, I'll go into the card store and look up and down the mother's birthday card section, picking them up, grimacing, putting them down. She's not really the one for cute rabbits; not for the low-brow jokes about getting older, never in a million years would I send her a note about 'putting your feet up". Last year, I settled on a card with a toaster on the front that read 'Mum - you're the best thing since sliced bread'.

Is it weird that bread reminds me of her? Bread. There's comfort in a sliced loaf, something familiar. In that every piece, whatever the kind, whether it's dark and seeded or white and airy, it's kind of known. And that's what Mum is like. No matter where I am, where we are, what I ask, she stays the same. Sure, we all have off days, but somehow she manages to push that off-ness away, so that she can always do what's best for me. There's something unselfish about a slice of bread. Bread tastes good on it's own, it's a vehicle for sweet jam, or you can get a nourishing meal out of it when the loaf is wholemeal spelt. She is the most generous person I know. Generous is an under statement, I sometimes wonder if she knows how to think about herself. She'll go in the car for hours, driving unknown darkened highways in February sleet when buses leave us at airports. She's sat in the freezing car while we're at the gym, she has a long commute every day since she wanted us to reach school in half an hour. I always thank her, when she does something, but it's like thanking your piece of toast. You regret the words as soon as they come out of your mouth. The toast will never reply, but with Mum, the words are just inadequate.

When we fight, I cry, she hates it. Most of the time I'm not even upset because I care so much about what a actually led to the fight, but more because I hate the fight in the first place. She says everything because she knows it's the best for me. I wonder where she can find it - find the energy, the brain capacity to keep us all afloat. Every morning, she remembers things. Call your insurance, I've left money on the desk, don't forget a house key, I've called a taxi, there's stuff in the wash, but leave it, I'll sort it when I'm home. One breath. As I've grown up I've come to roll my eyes at that stereotypic 'super-mum' (super-mom?) image that's drawn everywhere. Why do they have to be yoga teachers wearing leggings, sipping kombucha in Venice Beach, while completing the school run and loading three washes? Or otherwise do they have to be single mothers who've adopted three abused kids and now have started a charity? Or must they wear power suits and killer heels, and have men shaking at board meetings? Why can't we just acknowledge those that are like my mum? They're the ones who make the world go round. No killer heels (anymore. I've seen her wedding photos) and god forbid the leggings and green juice. But here's the kid who's never gone to school without a cooked breakfast, never been the only one without a certain brand, been the only one to eat a homemade sandwich at lunch. And she never complained, never asked for the board room or the board walk, she ate her toast, fed us ours, we've laughed a lot.

She often thinks she's made mistakes as a parent, which I guess all mothers do. I'll never agree with her. I am my own person as much as I am hers. If she hadn't been the person who she is, we'd all have been left without a lifeline. The anchor of the rocky family ship; the lighthouse showing us where to go, the winds that pushed us in the right decision, the sails that drove us there. The captain, but also the navigator, probably feeling like the deckhand and the lookout. I'll never be able to thank her enough. What's a baguette without the seeds? Happy birthday Mum.

So yesterday was my mum's birthday. I think everyone struggles to find the right words and the right gifts for their mothers... you know them so well but in a way you wonder what they really need because they never say! I figured mine needed cake, so I put a few of her favourite things together and then this beauty emerged. There's a subtle exotic hint from nutmeg and cardamom, deepened by toasted pistachio. A combination of almond meal and brown rice flour keep the cake really light and with great structure for a gluten free cake. The frosting isn't very sweet, and if you're suspicious, doesn't taste overly coconutty at all. A little tropical, but pleasantly light and sticky, it's not the very thick type so doesn't distract from cake loveliness. It's a very simple but special cake, which I think is the way my mum would like it. I know she would've been happy with a wheat floury, butter filled cake, or none at all, but this is one of the few ways I can give to her, so there you have it. Hope you find a reason to make this one soon, it's not overly festive, but wouldn't be out of place on a holiday table. Enjoy the lights and cheer. Hugs xo

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CARDAMOM + PISTACHIO CAKE

//gluten free + dairy free // makes one 2 layer 6inch/15cm cake

A subtly exotic layer cake with fragrant cardamom and nutmeg. Garnish this light cake with crunchy pistachios and not-too-sweet coconut frosting if you'd like something more fancy.

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1/2 cup (50g) almond meal*
1/2 cup (60g) brown rice flour
2 tablespoons arrowroot starch**
1.5 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons freshly ground cardamom
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 cup (50g) extra virgin coconut oil, soft/ room temperature
3/4 cup (120g) light muscavado sugar (see the notes on my blondie recipe for more info about this sugar)
2 large free range eggs
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup (120ml) coconut milk

// for the coconut frosting
1/3 cup (80ml) full fat coconut milk
1/3 cup (40g) powdered cane sugar***
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground cardamom

TO DO

preheat the oven to 180’C, 350’F. oil & line 2 6inch/15cm round cake pans, dust with flour and set aside.

start with the cake. In a medium bowl, combine the flours, arrowroot, baking powder, salt and spices, whisk so they’re combined. set aside.

in a large bowl (or the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment) add the softened coconut oil and the sugar. With a hand mixer/stand mixer on low, combine the two till the oil is churned up into sugary clumps (make sure the oil is fairy soft, or there’ll be a mess here). This is like creaming. Once combined, add the eggs one at a time, beat on medium-low till combined; add the vanilla. In three additions, add the dry mix, one third at a time. After each dry addition, add 1/3 of the coconut milk, each time beating till just combined.

once mixed, pour the batter into the prepared pans. if you’d like them very even, weigh your large bowl before you start, then do some math with the weight of the pans.

Bake for 25-27 means, till a skewer inserted into the middle of the cakes comes out clean and the top is light golden. Allow the cakes to cool 20 minutes in the pans, then invert them onto a rack and cool completely. You can either frost immediately (which I don’t recommend, it’s easier to frost a cool cake which sheds less crumbs) or wrap tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate for a day, or freeze for longer.

// for the frosting
combine all the ingredients and whisk together well. It will not be very thick – this is for the drip effect on the cake, that’s fine. leave in the refrigerator till you want to frost the cake, then allow it to come to room temperature and it will loosen up again, or add a splash of coconut milk.

// to assemble
Place a little dollop of frosting on the plate/cake stand you finally would like to present your cake with, to hold the cake in place. Place one layer of cake, flat side down, over the frosting, push it into place. Cut 3 rectangles of parchment paper (or kitchen towel) and slide under the cake, so that no crumbs/frosting fall on your serving plate.
Spread a thin layer of frosting – about 4 tablespoons – over the top of the first layer, up to the edges is fine. Lay the next cake on top gently, pat it to secure into place. The decorating is really easy with this more rustic style – just add about another 4 tablespoons frosting to the top of the cake, smooth downwards over the sides onto the parchment. Make sure the top is fairly well covered, with some gaps on the sides. Sprinkle over the pistachios and remove the parchment which would’ve caught the drips.
Leftover cake can be stored in an airtight container in the fridge for about 3 days, though the frosting will firm up a bit. Still tastes great 

notes

*almond meal is the darling of gluten free baking – it is essentially ground almonds (the name it goes under in the UK) and the high protein and fat of the nuts help contribute great structure and tenderness to your goodies. You may come across almond flour which would work too – in almond flour the nuts are blanched, skinned and ground; in almond meal they are ground with their skin. In most cases this can be a direct switch, but almond flour is usually more finely ground, so if this is crucial to a recipe (madeleines for example) a switch wouldn’t work. Almond flour is often more expensive, but almond meal can be made from whole almonds ground in a food processor.
** arrowroot powder (starch) is just a starch, similar to cornstarch or tapioca starch. It’s often used as a thickener for pies, jams etc, but in gluten free baking it helps with texture and cohesion. You can substitute another starch, but I think you could omit it all together and not notice too much. I’ve never tried – I usually add a little since it’s always worked. You can find it at most supermarkets or online.
** to make powdered cane sugar, add about 1/2 cup (100g or so) turbinado/cane sugar to a food processor and process till fine and floury. You can of course just use confectioner’s/powdered sugar, which will also be whiter. But you know me.

Last note: If you are looking for a more traditional frosting (cream cheese or a buttercream maybe), and more decorating tips, I’d recommend the Vanilla Bean Baking Book. Sarah Kieffer blogs at The Vanilla Bean Blog and her cakes are gorgeous – I remember seeing a cardamom frosting on the site (there is also one in the beautiful book).

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more cakes

almond-vanilla bean layer cake

nothing in return | orange & cranberry (holiday) granola

I wasn't particularly planning on writing to you, you were just rolling along being yourself, I'd just written to your sister and I didn't want to bore everyone. But then you hurt your claw (that was partly my fault for not trimming the damn thing. For that, I'm sorry. Promise.) and I changed my mind, but that's not the only reason why. I've been thinking about you since we put up the Christmas tree .

You came, little tail wagging. Sticking that velvety muzzle into all the boxes, sneezing in the glitter and pine needles. You look at life through fresh eyes, don't you? You're not like your sister, not like Prune who is the cynic, she knows what she wants. You're like that little amber bauble in the box of decorations. There are lots of similar ones, many are bigger, maybe more shiny, maybe a perfect sphere. You'd be slightly dusty, maybe chipped, slightly forgotten. But then I'd pull you out and dust you off and you shine. There's no face that I want to grab and cuddle more than yours. It may not be an elegant face, your paws may be too big for your body, you may bark too much but the real problem is that you have too much to give. You expect nothing from anyone, you're surprised when we talk to you, when we call Suzi over just for a cuddle. You want to give it all to us- joy, love, whatever, expecting nothing in return.

In some ways I think I see myself in you, Prune too, but sometimes with you it's so obvious I have to laugh. There was that day we went to the vet's, we'd lined up on the ramp, the receptionist came to open up. And there's Prune, all tail wags, friendly licks, instantly loved, lots of hugs, a roomful of new friends. And you? You stand in the background, alone, and you even bark. It takes a long time for people to realise how sweet you are - I'm nowhere near as sweet as you, but I'd be the one waiting at the back (I don't bark yet, but people don't ever take to me straight away, so I might as well). It takes you a long time to trust people, you'll do with your own company, but when you do start to trust, you'd do anything for them, you show them in your own suzi-like ways. You have so much love to give. The way you always bark at strange men, the way you climb onto my bed sometimes, how you curl your whole body around our legs and sleep like a little bean.

And before this season of giving, you've taught me so much about true generosity, patience. How do you manage, even if you're worried and scared, even though you've been hurt, to make us all smile and love us so much? I've learnt to give you time to warm to us, time to calm down when you're nervous, and it's been worth it, for the tic tac of your paws running to meet me when I'm up in the morning, for your snuggles and how you rest your whole face on my lap. So to you, the little forgotten bauble, just know for me you're the shiniest of the bunch. You can be the angel on the highest branch. Thank you, suzi, for teaching me that in our own way, we all know how to give. And thanks for giving me something every day, all year. You could teach Santa a thing or two.

I think I mentioned giving in my last post? To me the nicest things to gift are homemade, and I this granola would fit the role perfectly. It's pretty adaptable and looks cute + rustic in a glass jar with a little pine sprig, and granola keeps forever too - so make the whole batch and gift some. In case you were wondering what this had to do with Suzi, the answer is not much, but she simply doesn't ask for anything or expect anything - and that's just so rare. I expect and ask for my Christmas granola to be really tasty, warmly spiced and distinctly festive, and this recipe ticks all those boxes. The orange juice & zest in the syrup with a hint of molasses and ginger puts a Christmas candle in your breakfast (or snack)(I've never eaten a candle before though) + cranberries & oranges are made for each other. At other times of year, I switch the molasses for honey and tone down the ginger, which makes for a really bright and refreshing taste, so this recipe is a keeper for the whole year. In the notes under the recipe I give some switches for making the granola gluten-free and pantry friendly, so I really hope you try this one out. Try to make some time in the craziness for homemade gifts and cherishing the less-shiny baubles, whatever form they come in. The cheer is upon us. Happy holidays xo

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ORANGE & CRANBERRY (HOLIDAY) GRANOLA

//gluten free option + vegan // makes about 8 cups/ 2l

1 1/3 cup (320ml) unsweetened orange juice, freshly squeezed or pure fresh bottled juice
1 tablespoon (15ml) unsulphured molasses*
1 tablespoon + 1 teaspoon (40ml) extra virgin coconut oil (room temperature)
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
1 teaspoon cinnamon
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
finely grated zest of one orange, optional

2 cups (200g) rolled oats
2 cups (200g) rolled rye/rye flakes**
2/3 cup (94g) pumpkin seeds
2/3cup (86g) sunflower seeds
1/2 cup (50g) walnuts, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup (75g) almonds, coarsely chopped
2 tablespoons  (20g) flax seeds

2/3 cup (100g) unsweetened dried cranberries

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preheat the oven to 180’C or 350’F. line a large, rimmed baking tray with parchment paper.

start by making the ‘syrup’. in a medium saucepan over high heat, add the orange juice and molasses. you’re essentially making a reduction, so let the mix boil, uncovered, till reduced by about half: you want about 2/3 cup (160ml) liquid. after about 10 minutes of scarily rapid boiling, steam etc, carefully (this is real hot stuff) pour into a measure and check. if there’s too much liquid, boil longer and check, if there is too little, don’t panic. you can top it up with extra juice.
while the liquid is still hot, pour it back into the pan, stir in the coconut oil till it melts through; add the spices and vanilla and set aside to cool/infuse.

while the oj mix is cooling, find a very large bowl. add all the dry ingredients to the bowl and stir them to combine (I use my hands, less messy)
retrieve the cooled wet mix. drizzle it over the oat-nut mix and stir well, so the grains are just moistened without being wet. toss it well so that the bottom of the bowl doesn’t stay dry.

dump the bowl out onto the prepared baking tray – there will be a lot, use a wooden spoon/spatula to spread it evenly over the tray. put the tray in the oven for 10 minutes.
after 10 minutes, open the oven and stir the granola around on the tray, bringing the granola from the edges into the middle and the middle towards the edges – this is important or the edges will burn/brown much faster. rotate the tray.
bake for around 40 minutes, stirring/moving edges and rotating every 10-15 minutes. This granola is best with the grains nice and separate, not the clumpy kind; the frequent stirring ensures this.
40 minutes leaves the grains and nuts deeply toasted, which I love, but if this is not your thing, you can check on it after about 35 minutes.

Allow the granola to cool in the pan, then toss through the cranberries. Once fully cooled, use the parchment paper as a funnel (do this over a baking tray, it helps) to pour the ‘nola into a sealable glass jar, where it will keep a month or so. You can of course also put into small jars, paper bags etc. for gifting.

notes

*health foodies actually swear by blackstrap molasses, but it’s very sharp/spicy – I just used a natural variety that adds huge depth without the sharpness or being overly sweet, but remember, this and the juice are the only real sweeteners here. Your call. Also, if you’re in Belgium or Holland, I think appelstroop (apple syrup – can you find it elsewhere?) would work really well.
** to make this gluten free, switch the rolled rye for more gf certified rolled oats. I use it here because I like the contrast in color and shape to the very pale rolled oats, so you could try another gf rolled grain like rolled millet or quinoa. It adds nice variety

As a general note, you can keep things in the same volume and use what you have – 1 cup (around 150-160g) total of nuts, for example. And as I said, for something less in-your-face holiday, I switch molasses for honey and sometimes the cranberries for unsulphured dried apricots, blueberries or raisins. Granola just lives to make your breakfasts easy.

ps. This blog has been in existence almost 2 months now... I just want to say a huge thank you to the small handful of loyal readers who visit my little corner of the net often. Every comment, email, just you reading means the world to me. As a heads up, I might be changing the URL of the blog because after 'settling in' to the blog, I'm not sure how fitting it is. I will send an email to my subscribers when a change happens and I'll try to set up some kind of redirect. Thanks for all your support, if I could bake you all a cookie, I would.

suzi, the littlest one

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more holiday breakfasts

spiced apple pancakes

cardamom-cranberry spelt wreath

blackberry & rosemary rolls

like a cold snap | pear-cocoa muffins with a walnut crumb

"L'hiver", he said to me. "Il fait froid". I had a working understanding of French, I understood more than I could speak. Winter, he'd said, it's cold. And it was bitter, Belgium was snowed in. The flakes had fallen, thick and hard for the past few days, it was Friday afternoon. Our first snow day. I think we almost died when we heard school was cancelled. Our bedroom was the loft room so the sloped windows were blacked out and the garden had become - just white, like Jack Frost had been visiting. The skeletal ribs of trees were lightly dusted, the whole garden looked soft and downy, it was magic. There was a sweet hush, a feeling of coziness, that the neighborhood was under a soft quilt.

Our house was on top of a small hill, the driveway was at least 250m long and very steep. Since school was cancelled anyway, we persuaded our dad not to start shovelling - we were going sledding. We didn't have those nice wooden sleds, rather these plastic things, almost like saucers, that you just sat on, pushed off, curled your legs under and hoped for the best. They made for a pretty exhilarating ride and pretty wet clothes. So we spent the next few hours happily running up the driveway, finding new and more perilous ways to 'ride' those sleds.

Our neighbors were an elderly couple who lived at the bottom of that hill. Number 6 was a charming white cottage, mint green shutters, a small wooden deck, a row of tidy trees. They kept two sheep in their hilly garden, a few greenhouses and all winter I'd watch the smoke rise from their chimney, smell the veggie soup. They often spoke in Dutch with my dad, I knew they were nice people, but I was a shy 12 year old who didn't speak much of the language, I'd offer a wave and a smile when we passed them. The man's name was Frans and he'd come out along his snowy driveway to check his mailbox, which is where my sister and I crash landed every time our sleds brought us down. I knew he spoke both French and Dutch and under pressure to say something, I think I mumbled 'bonjour', he'd said hello, big smiles, weather talk for the 2 kids who enlivened the neighborhood. I think he was happy, to see us scrambling around in the snow, the town was aging, we brought with us the shrieks of laughter and spontaneous joy that add something to a white Christmas. After that he'd often wave, and we started to bring Therese and Frans muffins. Nothing fancy, maybe banana, blueberry if we were feeling creative, just a friendly neighbor thing.

In their garden they grew beautiful fruits and vegetables in weathered glasshouses. the vines were heavy with purple grapes, green stalks slumped under the weight of tomatoes and zucchini in summer, when they'd bring the overflow of their produce. Quiet, hardworking people who'd toiled away for years, actually living for a while in what became our house while they worked to build their own. They'd made something out of that small, hilly patch of land.

I grew up fast in those years. Snow went from being a fun novelty to an added chore, 4am we'd be out in -15 degrees darkness, listening to the tune of a Siberian wind that ate through our ski jackets. The charm quickly faded, and so did Frans. Dementia gets the best of them. It was fast, sudden, bitter, like a cold snap. My first funeral, gray February, dark spirits, black clothes, stone village church. He'd written us a letter, probably one of the last he wrote, he thanked us for the muffins, said he remembered us. Therese would visit him at the care home often, and we'd go down to the cottage, with muffins. To share with Frans, we'd say. And he remembered us as the two girls with the snow and the hill, the sleds. That winter had been years ago, I was way too cool to play in the snow, I preferred to clear it, salt it, watch it melt. I wondered what Frans would think, the melting snow made me think of childhood, giving way under the grit that life throws at it.

Till the day we left Belgium we went to see Therese. We branched out from muffins to tea - Therese loved tea, we'd buy it whenever we went anywhere new. Peppermint tea from Tanzania, earl grey from England, Darjeeling from India all passed through the doorway of that stone cottage. We'd talk about frans sometimes (my Dutch had improved to monosyllables at this point. It's not so hard to say 'ja' is it?) and she'd always say, whenever she brought the muffins and said it was from the snow girls, his face would light up, like that weak winter sun.

I have a little folder in my desk drawer. A few birthday cards from my sister, some from my grandparents and my dad. The rest are letters from Therese. She writes in her spidery script, I write back in my broken Dutch. If there was one person who I wish could see this blog, it's her. It doesn't snow much here, but when it does, I think of that house, when they were both there, the smell of a wood fire and the small figure of Frans, fetching logs, him raising a pale hand in greeting. Bittersweet, just like the winter.

And if there was one person who'd love these muffins it would be Frans. A gluten and dairy free, honey-ish muffin with a walnut streusel is sort of a far cry from those muffs but hey, proof of my improvement as a baker. This recipe makes quite a few muffs, but it's that giving season. You could give some away - maybe you know an elderly neighbor who's spending their first Christmas alone? Or there's the Amazon delivery guy who brings you a parcel at 9pm on a freezing Friday night when you're sitting in front of a fire feeling smug/snug. Or you could freeze some, or just eat them, they're mostly fruit, if you need persuasion. If you don't want/need them gluten free, I've added a spelt flour variation in the notes under the recipe. Chocolate, pears and substitutions? I spoil you. The crazy starts now, you ready? Wishing you a warm + cozy festive season, give a lot if you can, stock up on salt. Jeez I'm a cynic. Go string up your lights, this grinch did plans to do sothis weekend! Hugs guys xo

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PEAR-COCOA MUFFINS WITH A WALNUT CRUMB

// dairy & gluten free // makes 12-14 medium muffs

A cozy cold weather muffin, light from seasonal pear and slightly sweet with honey, but rich with cocoa. Sprinkle with a nutty crumble that's a nice contrast to the fudgy muffin

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3/4 cup (68g) oat flour, certified gf if necessary
3/4 cup (98g) buckwheat flour
1/4 cup (50g) natural cocoa powder
2 tablespoons (14g) flax meal
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 free range egg
1/3 cup (80ml) milk of choice – I used almond, use what you have
3 tablespoons (45ml) honey
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil (45ml)
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
3 medium pears (about 400g) ripe but firm pears, grated

// crumb topping
Heaped 1/4 cup walnuts (35g), chopped
1/4 cups rolled oats (24g)
1 tablespoon turbinado sugar *
1 tablespoon soft / room temperature coconut oil

preheat your oven to 180’C or 350’F. Line about 13 muffin tin – holes, evenly over 2 trays.

start by making the crumb topping. Add all the ingredients to a small bowl, mix with your fingers till the oil is no longer clumpy and the mix looks sandy. Leave in the fridge till you need it again.

in a large bowl, mix the flours, flax meal, baking powder and soda, salt, cinnamon and cocoa powder till evenly combined

in another medium bowl, add the honey, vanilla, oil, and milk, whisk till well combined; add the egg and whisk again

add the wet mix to the the dry flour mix and gently combine – once evenly moist, add the pear and again gently fold to combine

add about 1/4 cup (4 tablespoons) to each muffin case, they can be filled quite high . Sprinkle a heaped tablespoon of streusel on top of each and pat it down gently, to adhere.

bake for about 20-22 minutes, till the top of the muffin springs back when touched. Because of the moisture of the pear, they always appear ‘underdone’ if you test with a skewer, so check the tops. The moisture is what makes the muffin so fudgy and special

they keep in an airtight container for about 3 days, but the extra freeze well in feeezer bags.

notes

*Turbinado sugar is also known as raw sugar, which it is, essentially (it’s a sneaky one- in the UK It goes under demerara sugar).  Where you want some texture, you’ll often find turbinado – crumbles, streusels, I also use it in cookies and pies. It’s a pretty golden brown color with big grains and is very unrefined, which is my jam of course. It’s made by simply crushing sugar cane and dehydrating the juice so it retains all the minerals and vitamins which is pretty sweet for sugar (lame pun). It’s also easy to find at any supermarket, I can find the supermarkets own brand.

You can use any nuts you want in place of the walnuts, hazelnuts would be good too. And of course, the streusel is entirely optional, but fun! For another option, you can use 1 1/2 cups + a heaped tablespoon (175g) spelt flour instead of the gf flours and flax. I’ve tried it, they are the tiniest bit less fudgy but no less great and maybe easier for some of you.
I think you could halve this for about 6-7 muffins if you’re ok with having half an egg hanging around – whisk the whole egg and weigh it, add half. Use the other half in scramble eggs or I think you could keep it in the fridge for a few days for egg wash for pies or scones? Never tried, just a thought.

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lemon-blueberry loaf

cherry + chocolate rye oatmeal cookies

blackberry & ginger spelt scones