Cupcakery

I never got the whole cupcake craze.
Until now.
I have on my desk a chocolatey-chocolate treat that surpasses any of the mega-muffin, overblown, looks-good-tastes-okay cupcakes I’ve sampled before, from all over the food map: kiosks and food trucks, restaurants, bakeries and coffee shops. Hoping each time for a luscious combination of flavor and texture, each time has been a distinct disappointment. Where do I finally find satisfaction? At the office potluck.

I always want a cupcake to deliver not only the amusement of having a miniature cake to eat, sometimes decorated with clever or beautiful or just plain delicious frosting, but also to live up to the idea of cupcake, which conjures up childhood birthday parties full of glitter and balloons. This cupcake, in addition to satisfying the adult in me, even hits that childhood note. And, it allows me to, once again, laud the homemade over the store-bought.

Today’s cupcake was baked by my friend, Barbara, who, I am learning, is a cake queen (she made a Thomas the Tank Engine cake for her preschooler that looked as though it would come alive and say something perky to Mr. Conductor). Her cupcake features the sort of chocolate flavor that satisfies the deepest craving; the cake is soft and yielding and full of flavor, moist but not gloppy, light but not lightweight. To pump it up even more, she’s covered it in dark ganache so rich I can’t wait to try making these myself, just so I can lick the bowl.

On top of all this is the cupcake’s sweetest twist, which adds not just whimsy, but texture and crunch to go perfectly with the smooth, rich cupcake itself: crunchy sugar sprinkles in silver, gold and white, carefully shaped into stars. Barbara tells me she got the decorations from the legendary cake decorating shop, Little Bitts, in Wheaton – a must-stop for any serious home cake makers.

Barbara’s other secret: her masterpiece is crafted from the Georgetown Cupcakes recipe, snipped from a Washington Post comparison of local cupcakeries printed a couple of years ago. Maybe Barbara has a three-ring binder like mine, bursting with these sorts of clippings. All I really need to know now, though, is that the recipe is available, and I can try it myself. (Also that you can use Ghiardelli if you can’t splurge on (or find) Valrhona or Callebaut). Fun.

Degrees of cold

I am a Florida girl. But after nearly 30 years in the Washington area, and four in the mountains of North Carolina before that, I may finally understand how to survive winter.
1) Embrace the cold.
2) Have really good gear.
3) Remember: being cold is not fatal.
One winter I learned to snowboard. Full assault on cold, snow, ice, everything, complete with red-tipped ears, chapped lips and numb fingers and toes. This was the most effective way of shoehorning myself out of the winter cocoon of blankets and coziness indoors, out into cheek-slapping cold that invigorated me. I even sweated, getting up and down off the snow as I learned. Big fun.

This week, I biked to metro despite the 17-degree temperatures, the coldest we’ve had this year. I felt charged up by the time I’d locked up my bike and walked toward the train. Fun might be a stretch. But it did feel good.

It helped that I had good gear. Thanks to my big sister for this lesson: she learned to live in upstate New York and Montana. LL Bean and REI have become my best friends. Silk long underwear is the bomb. Heavy socks are an essential. Good, comfy gloves. Layers of sweaters I can peel off as I warm up. And a hat – how do all those guys riding metro, with their close-cropped heads, go without? I don’t get it.

Most important epiphany: I will not die of cold. I might be uncomfortable. But I don’t have to spend the entire time I am cold thinking about what to do –fast—to be un-cold. I can just be cold. This is easier if I remind myself that I will be warm again soon.

In fact, this week I was warm so soon—with temperatures swinging back up around 50— I had to peel off extra sweaters to stay comfortable. I almost missed the cold. And for a Florida girl, that’s saying a lot.