Yes, you read the title right, I am the Muffin Man (at least in the sense that I am a man known for making muffins). Growing up, having muffins for breakfast was common, often once a week or more. The simplicity of making Pillsbury chocolate chip and blueberry muffins made them perfect for feeding the bottomless void of my adolescent stomach. Between the two flavors I never had much of a preference until I found cinnamon streusel.
A match made in heaven, I found the ambrosia to feast upon with my morning nectar of the gods (coffee, hold the sugar, hold the milk, hold everything. Its straight black). However, I was unable to satisfy my cravings some weekends as no one was willing to make me muffins. My compromise, learn to do it myself, started me on my path toward independence at a young age.
Admittedly, I wasn’t the best at baking initially. Not mixing all the dry ingredients equally through the liquid ones led to lumps developing and gross patches of powder in the muffins once baked. I persevered though, and eventually I got pretty good at making not just one batch of muffins, but 2-3 at a time.
Once I got into high school the supplying of baked goods for party days in class became the perfect stage to perform my culinary art. I almost always made muffins for these parties, regardless of when they occurred. The real benefit to choosing muffins was once they were baked in the morning, I could just snack on them through the day. I was a benevolent lord of baked goods and would provide for my acolytes.
My consistency in bringing muffins to every event, along with the high quality of production, led to an expectation that I would ALWAYS bring muffins. To this day, that mostly holds true. I have on occasion instead brought a griddle and made pancakes for the most loyal of my subjects, but that is a story for another day.