I’ve decided to blame everything that happened last Wednesday on my friend, Michele. It’s not really fair, but neither is life.
Michele is an accomplished baker and specializes in making cupcakes. Honestly, she specializes in making everything, but I’ve had her cupcakes and they are ridiculous. She pinned this Neapolitan Cupcake recipe from Cooking Classy on Pinterest.
If you’ll recall (or you can catch up here) I did a certain gold-and-pink thing for my faux birthday. In the tradition of elementary school, I thought I’d make these sweet cupcakes and then take them to my Thursday students, before I didn’t see them for almost two weeks. Sugar them up and give them back to their parents, you know? Moriah even offered to come over and photograph the pretty confections in a mini-birthday shoot.
That’s when it started to go bad.
See, you have to make the chocolate cake, which means combining cocoa and baking soda and pouring boiling water on it. While that cooled, I used a demonically possessed hand mixer* to cream together butter and oil and sugar before adding eggs and the cocoa mixture and some heavy cream. The batter ends up a syrupy mess, more akin to pudding that hasn’t set than cake batter.
With faith, I pressed on to the vanilla cake, which went much more like I’d expect. Using three more bowls (we’re up to 5, if you’re counting), a fluffy cake batter emerged. Now comes the part where I’d like to tell you that I deftly floated the vanilla cake on top of the chocolate soup, but there was a witness. If I lie, I have to kill Moriah which would put a strain on our relationship.
There was a lot of begging and crying as I finagled the stubborn batter onto it’s watery base.
Here’s the thing, friends. All that struggle was worth it. Topped with a delicious strawberry frosting, the cupcakes were a revelation. So much yum!
Plus, Moriah got some gorgeous photos!