Chesterberry Muffins.

I tried.

I swear by everything that is good and holy in my life; I tried, I tried.

First, I tried not to post about Chesterberry Muffins at all.

Zip it, Beth. I told myself.  Silence is the better part of valor.

FYI, silence isn’t the better part of valor.  That’s not even a real phrase.  DISCRETION is the better part of valor.  I just committed phrase butchery.  Probably because I have neither silence nor discretion.

So I tried to keep the Chesterberry Muffins all to myself.  Because that’s what’s good.  That’s what’s wise.  That’s the entire point of one million phrases about keeping your mouth shut.

But I’m just filled to bursting with my Chesterberry Muffins, and if I don’t let off a little pressure, I’m likely to explode.

Kind of like our van exploded last night.  Vehicular Vanslaughter, my husband called it, recalling fondly standing in 95 degree heat, watching a veritable flood of transmission fluid pour forth, and waiting for a tow truck.  Which has nothing to do with Chesterberry Muffins, but a lot to do with explosions.  Which is a gross exaggeration of what really happened, but whatever.

Back to the muffins.

After trying to remain silent – which obviously wasn’t going to work after I caught myself crawling across my sticky, crumb-laden kitchen counter tops in a Chesterberry Muffin photo-taking extravaganza – I decided I would do the next best thing.

I would post a mature, thoughtful entry about my Chesterberry Muffins.

I would not, anywhere in the post – not even in one single, suggestive reference – giggle about the name Chesterberry Muffins.

I would reject the 14-year-old boy who lives inside me, and I would not repeat the words Chesterberry Muffins over and over and over again.

Because there is nothing funny about Chesterberry Muffins.

And, if you agree with that last sentence and wonder what the heck I’m talking about in general, then GOOD FOR YOU!  You are hereby allowed to hang out with and influence my children, because God knows they need a counter-influence to their mother who finds Chesterberry Muffins 12 kinds of hilarious.

I tried at least four different, mature ways to start this post.  And this is where I landed.  But, since part of my parenting mission includes teaching my children how to handle failure, I’ll chalk this one up in the “leading by example” column.  You’re welcome, kids.

So, if you’re like me, you may be wondering… what the heck is a Chesterberry?  And, did Beth make this up just to mess with me?

Well, we all know that I’m not above using fruit as a messing-with-people device, but I assure you that no, I did NOT make up the Chesterberry.  I WISH I made up the Chesterberry, but wishing doesn’t make it so.

A Chesterberry – I kid you not, and I can prove it here because everything you read on the internet is true – is “a semi-erect blackberry.”  The 14-year-old boy in me just peed his pants, and now he’s hanging his head in embarrassment on his way to get paper towels to clean it up.

So I found myself this week in possession of a pint of semi-erect blackberries.  And, well, a pint of anything is not enough to feed my family, so I’ve become the Queen of Extending Food.  Really.  Someday, I should write a week’s worth of posts on all the things I do to make food go further.

But, never one to let Chesterberries go to waste (seriously – never, in all my week-long history with Chesterberries have I let them go to waste), I thought to myself, “Self.  Make muffins.”  And then I thought, “Chesterberry Muffins.”  And then I giggled, and the rest… well, you’re currently living the fallout of that, now, aren’t you?

Here’s what I did:

Chesterberry Muffins

Ingredients:

• 1 pint Chesterberries (feel free to use blackberries, but I’m telling you right now… you won’t have as much fun)
• 1 box yellow cake mix… and the stuff the box says to make cupcakes; you know, like eggs, oil and water
• 2 T. cinnamon
• 1/3 c. flour
• 1/3 c. packed brown sugar
• 1/3 c. rolled oats
• 1/3 c. cold butter

Directions:

• Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.
• Mix up your cake mix according to package directions, adding 1 T. cinnamon to the batter
• Fold the Chesterberries into the mix, but do not crush your Chesterberries! They like to be handled gently.
• Fill muffin tin with batter… approximately 1/4 c. per muffin… makes 24.
• In a separate bowl, cut together all remaining ingredients.  This is your crumble topping… put a teaspoon of the topping on each muffin.
• Bake for 18 minutes more or less.  They’re done when they’re golden and an inserted toothpick comes out clean.

Serve them to your family, emphasizing their name.  Chesterberry Muffins, guys!  Chesterberry Muffins!

Don’t explain why you’re giggling.

Pray for more positive influences in your children’s lives.

Enjoy!

Love,
Beth