In the quiet of the oven's embracement, a muffin is born. Kneaded not by hands, but by the compassionate swirl of unseen wind. Each component speaks a language of its own, in whisked consonance. Flours, yeasts, and sugars - a triumvirate dissolved in a tapestry of silence, weaving muffling magic upon the tongue.
To make a muffin is to whisper a secret to rising dough. Allow it an hour in the cloud, an hour to understand gravity's gentle push. Measure not with spoons, but with heartbeats; each cup of flour deserves a song sung softly for its sublimation.
Observe the disappearing act: bake patiently until they turn golden, like the last rays of sun at dusk. The act itself a crescendo. Muffins, once concealed, reveal layers of stories best understood alone, perhaps with a token of butter or the company of tea.
Chapter 1: Fabric Alphabets Intermission: Smug Muffins Remixed