Cupcakes are hard not to love. They’re just so cute. To be honest, I only made cupcakes because I wanted to frost them with little soft peaks, and then have them sitting around on the counter for a couple days, just to look at. I don’t really enjoy eating cake—batter, on the other hand, is never safe, I need to bake the batter immediately, lest it all mysteriously disappears before reaching the oven—but I just wanted to have cupcakes.
I am not a fan of cupcake bakeries. Cupcakes are easy to make, too easy, it seems, to justify an entire bakery. A cupcake truck however, is also just too cute. Driving around, dispensing little perfectly frosted circles of cake, often time with absurd yet delicious combinations. For me however, when I do eat a cupcake, I want it to be absolutely delicious looking. It should be a crime to not eat the cupcake. A perfect cupcake fore me is not pristine, with perfectly mounded frosting and painted discs, not covered in sprinkles, and not at the sweet price of six dollars. I want a cupcake that looks like it should, small, a little bit of cake, and mounded with messy, rich, sweet frosting. When the lid comes off the cake cover, I want the cupcakes to smell up the room. And when I eat a cupcake, I want to get frosting on my nose.