Cupcakes

Spurred on my friends, I have decided to write about one of life's cruel realities: cupcakes. Cupcakes promise to be this bite-sized, one serving size of sugary goodness. Sometimes it has chocolate cake, white cake, or angel food cake, all topped by a veritable cornucopia of frostings. Sounds deliciously awesome and fantastically convenient right? No. Not even close. While delicious, instead of the angel food ones which have the texture of an egg crate mattress, they are a hassle. First you've got to peel off the cupcake paper, which is always nestled right under the layer of frosting. Now you've got frosting on your hands. Then, unless you have a mouth the size of cookie monster or Julia Roberts, you have to decide whether to take a cake bite or a frosting bite. You end up trying to take two quick bites to mix the tastes, much like trying to mix the hot and cold water from two separate sink faucets. (That never works either, you get scalded and frozen simultaneously). In sum, my problem with cupcakes is that they're devious. They masquerade as a convenient sugar fix, but when seen in their true light, they only offer a mess, polarized bites, and a complete hassle. Not to mention bringing a plate and fork into this supposedly easy-to-eat, single portion dessert. At least cake is upfront with its true identity. No, give me a slice of my sister-in-law Abbe's bundt carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, or my mother's german chocolate cake any day of the week. The cupcakes from Magnolia's bakery in New York can be eaten by those who want a further complication in their lives.