I know it’s not fully spring yet. The calendar says we’re close, but my frost-covered windshield and the pile of mismatched gloves by the door say otherwise. And honestly? I need some spring vibes so badly.

These are the moments when I find myself standing at the counter, getting ready to feed my sourdough starter, when my brain—clearly tired of gray skies and freezing temperatures—whispers, "Hey… what if we made something that actually tastes like sunshine?"

Enter: Lemon Poppyseed Muffins.

Because when the world outside refuses to cooperate, we take matters into our own hands. And by “matters,” I mean “baking something that tricks me into believing it’s not still winter.”

Why Sourdough Discard?

If you’ve ever kept a sourdough starter, you know the drill: every time you feed it, you have to remove some of the old starter, or else it turns into an overgrown science experiment. Most of the time, this discard ends up in the trash (gasp), but that’s basically throwing away potential baked goods, and I refuse to live like that.

Instead, I like to sneak sourdough discard into recipes where it can add a little something extra without making my life difficult. In this case, it brings just the right amount of tangy depth to balance out the bright lemon flavor. Plus, it makes me feel virtuous for using every part of my starter, like some sort of waste-conscious kitchen wizard.

So let’s get to it, because these little beauties are the exact thing you need to coax some spring vibes into your life when it’s still snowing outside.

Sourdough Discard Lemon Poppyseed Muffins

(Makes about 12 muffins, or 10 if you’re heavy-handed with the batter like I am.)

Ingredients

For the muffins:

• 1 cup sourdough discard (unfed, straight from the jar—don’t overthink it)
• 1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
• ½ teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• ½ teaspoon salt
• 2 tablespoons poppy seeds
• ½ cup unsalted butter, melted (or use oil if you want them extra moist)
• ¾ cup sugar
• Zest of 2 lemons (because we’re not here for subtle lemon flavor)
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 2 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• ½ cup milk (any kind—whole, almond, oat, whatever you’ve got)

For the glaze (because we’re fancy like that):

• 1 cup powdered sugar
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• ½ teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions

1. Preheat your oven to 375°F (190°C). Line a muffin tin with paper liners or grease it really well unless you enjoy aggressively scraping muffins out of a pan.

2. Whisk together the dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, mix the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and poppy seeds. Set it aside while you pretend to be organized.

3. Mix the wet ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the melted butter, sugar, lemon zest, and lemon juice. Inhale deeply and pretend you’re in a sunlit lemon grove instead of your dimly lit kitchen with the sound of the heater clanking in the background.

4. Add the eggs, vanilla, and sourdough discard. Stir until everything is well combined. Don’t worry if the sourdough discard looks weird at first—it’ll all come together.

5. Alternate adding the dry ingredients and the milk. Start with a third of the flour mixture, stir, add half the milk, stir, and repeat until everything is incorporated. This helps keep the batter from getting overmixed, which is science for fluffy muffins instead of sad, dense ones.

6. Divide the batter among the muffin cups. Fill them about ¾ of the way full, or all the way if you like a muffin top situation (which I fully support).

7. Bake for 18-22 minutes until the tops are golden and a toothpick comes out clean. Try not to hover in front of the oven, but no promises.

8. Let them cool for a few minutes before transferring to a wire rack. Or, you know, burn your fingers and eat one immediately like I do.

The Glaze Situation

Sure, you could eat these muffins plain. But why would you, when a simple lemon glaze takes them from nice to hello, bakery-level goodness?

1. Whisk together the powdered sugar, lemon juice, and vanilla until smooth. If it’s too thick, add a tiny splash of water. If it’s too thin, add more powdered sugar. You’re in charge here.

2. Drizzle generously over the cooled muffins. Or, if you have zero self-control, dunk the tops right into the glaze and let it drip down the sides dramatically.

3. Let the glaze set for a few minutes before devouring. Or don’t. I’m not here to judge.

Final Thoughts (aka, Justifications for Eating Three in One Sitting)

These muffins are the perfect little pick-me-up when you’re longing for warmer days. They’re:
✔️ Bright and citrusy, like a dose of sunshine in muffin form.
✔️ Just sweet enough, but not too sweet, so you can totally justify eating them for breakfast.
✔️ A clever way to use up sourdough discard, which means they’re practically necessary baking.

Ivy and Zander gave them the stamp of approval (which is saying something, because teenagers don’t fake enthusiasm for baked goods). Even Ivy’s dad, who rolls his eyes every time I embark on another sourdough experiment, admitted they were pretty good. Victory!

So, if you need a little springtime magic but Mother Nature refuses to cooperate, whip up a batch of these muffins. They might not melt the snow, but they’ll definitely brighten your day. And hey, at least they’ll make your kitchen smell amazing—which, in the depths of winter, is a small but mighty victory.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go “test” another muffin. For science.