Today I had an opportunity to be alright with good enough. I baked muffins yesterday for our builder and his crew, none of whom I have met yet. (This really bugs me, but so far I can’t seem to get to the lot when they’re there). For days I’d looked forward to making my trusty banana chocolate chips, envisioning bringing a little extra pleasure to their rainy day and finally connecting with them in some way.

But when these muffins came out of the oven, they looked like no others I’d made before. They were extremely white. And bland.

It didn’t take me long to figure out the problem. First, I forgot to use half whole wheat flour, which I’ve done for years (I’ve been cooking and baking gluten-free and vegan for so long, I guess I’m out of practice), and second, the recipe wasn’t exactly the one I usually use.

Our Year of Hell during this build may be slightly more hellish because most of our belongings are sealed in boxes while we rent. It’s clear after yesterday that I didn’t perfectly anticipate all the things we would need during this time.

The recipe I found online claimed to be Company’s Coming’s version of banana muffins, but right away I knew it wasn’t quite the same one I’ve used so much I should have it memorized. I decided to go for it anyway. I know now I would have been smart to listen to my instinct to add the vanilla that wasn’t in the ingredient list, and maybe swap butter for the cooking oil. (I am always reluctant to change recipes, especially when baking, for fear they won’t turn out).

So, the quandary: Do I dig my tried and true recipe out of a box of unknown location and make more muffins, or do I share the albino batch and hope the guys won’t live in fear of my future baked offerings?

The decision: With each doughy bite, I am more resolved these muffins will not find their way into the mouth of anyone else but John; I won’t even share them with friends who know I can bake. They’re just not good enough.