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Spiced apple and goji berry healthy muffins

spiced apple and goji berry muffins

spiced apple and goji berry healthy muffins

 I have been indulging myself recently in lots of butter and sugar (icing on cupcakes, etc.) because I felt sorry for myself (don’t we all).

But enough is enough! I’ve decided it’s time to go back to healthy baking.

Will power or what?!

I really wanted to use goji berries as they have been used in Chinese medicine for the last 2000 years and apparently they can even slow the ageing process (among other amazing health improving tricks).

 So I made really really healthy muffins. They are so freaking healthy, they should be prescribed by a doctor or something…

spiced apple and goji berry muffins

spiced apple and goji berry healthy muffins

 For the muffins:

 2 cups of wholemeal flour

1 cup of plain flour

1 teaspoon of baking soda

2 teaspoons of baking powder

1 cup of agave syrup

2 tablespoons of cinnamon

1 tablespoon of all spice

3 apples, diced

1 cup of dried goji berries

300 ml of buttermilk

1/2 cup of grape seed oil

3 eggs

 For the topping:

2 tablespoons of grape seed oil

3 tablespoons of plain flour

1 tablespoon of cinnamon

2 tablespoons of brown sugar

100 grams of sunflower seeds

100 grams of pumpkin seeds

spiced appleand goji berry muffins

spiced apple and goji berry muffins

1. Preheat oven to 180 C

2. Mix flour, baking powder and soda, cinnamon and all spice in a big bowl.

3. In a separate bowl mix oil, eggs, agave syrup and buttermilk.

4. Add wet ingredients to the dry ones, mix carefully and gently until combined.

5. Peel and dice apples and add them to the mixture with goji berries. Mix gently.

6. Line muffin tray with muffin cases. Scoop batter into them.

7. Mix all the ingredients for the topping and crumble on top of muffins.

8. Bake till skewer comes out clean and muffins are golden on top.

9. Stuff your face without guilt – your are extending your life eating them (see: goji berries).

spiced apple and goji berry muffins

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About potatofaces

People who cook always go on about precious memories of childhood food one of their family members cooked, how daddy or nanny taught them the importance of cooking and eating together, and they still remember the comfort food they produced, amazing dishes whipped up by brilliant but humble cooks in their family. Well, let me tell you, it was totally different in my family. My mother’s family – totally useless as cooks, who could survive on bread and butter, cooked once a week a terrible, terrible meal, usually some kind of meat piece with lots of brown sauce. Also, they were never bothered about eating together. That’s maybe why most of them were depressed and suicidal. My mother followed that path and couldn’t really cook, and because I never wanted to eat meat, was warning me that ‘one day I will regret it’. Probably because my mother wasn’t into cooking my sister at the age of 12 took over and started producing amazing dinners and cakes. Well, luckily for me and her we weren’t that genetically doomed because apparently my father’s family were gifted in that compartment. I can only presume it was genes, as my father divorced my mother when my sis and me were little and he strongly believed that he also divorced us. So, we were growing up never having any contact with him and as a result, couldn’t learn how to cook from him. That’s why I believe the love of cooking ( and the ability) was just passed to us genetically. My father, short time before he died, unexpectedly felt an urge to contact us. First he gave my sister a mandolin (that’s another thing I know about him- he played a few instruments). My sister refused to talk to him, he then decided to contact me and wanted to spend some time with me. I didn’t want to, as he was a stranger to me (I was 11 or 12 at the time) but as I was promised I could leave whenever I wanted to, I went to the village he lived in. There I tried his mother’s cooking everyone was raving about. It was simple and amazing, I wish they were as family dedicated as they were at baking, cooking, making pastries, wine, tinctures, you name it. But I ate, drunk, and got bored of strangers who were my family and demanded to be let to go home. One of the last things my father said to me was that I should start learning English because I might need it one day, which I ignored for another 16 years… Because my sister was such a domestic goddess I wasn’t really bothered about cooking. I got hooked properly after my son was born and I wanted him to eat healthy and get everything he needed, especially that it wasn’t his choice to be a vegetarian (yet). And that is how the story begins…

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