Sunday, October 7, 2012

My man made me cupcakes.

   I don't have a recipe to post today. Because I didn't bake. My love, however, my love made me some of the best cupcakes I've ever eaten. He made them completely from scratch today. This is a big deal for a few reasons:

  1. No one has ever made me cupcakes before. I even made the desserts for my own baby shower, and birthdays usually involved store bought cake or at best a boxed mix. That's not to say I'm not grateful for what I got, it's just a big deal for me to have someone make me something from scratch just for me.
  2. He made them for no reason. Just because. For me. To make me feel good. He hates sweets, especially cupcakes, but he made them anyway.
  3. He DOESN'T bake. Ever. The few times he's tried he's failed so hard he's avoided the oven like I avoid needles. With an avid fear apparent to most in the room. It's funny, because he can cook like no one else. He makes some of my favorite foods. None of them are baked. He's SCARED of baking because the result is so rarely good. Once he did make me cookies while I was pregnant. They weren't bad. I ate a few on purpose.
  4. They were easily the best cupcakes I've ever had. I can't tell him that, because he will think I'm just telling him to boost his ego, but they are unequivocally the best cupcakes I've eaten, and I'm a girl that loves a good cupcake.
   I may have had to give him a few pointers. He doesn't bake, after all, so some things were new to him. Also, he wrote part of the recipe wrong, so I had to tell him before he put 3-4 Tablespoons of salt in the batter instead of 3/4 teaspoon. Still, he made them, and he did an excellent job.

   These little cakes and I may have to run away together. It's going to suck when I eat them all and find myself alone, having left Brandon for baked goods, but they are that special kind of delicious that inspires art. Or poorly lit pictures of me pointing at cupcakes while grinning like a fool in my jammies because I don't get dressed or brush my hair on days I don't have to. I also don't cook real meals beyond quesadillas, or eat anything beyond junk food unless Brandon yells at me about being healthy. Cooper is gone this weekend, so this is one of those weekends. I'm a grown up, I promise.

   Let me describe these for you before I post the photo that is going up below. These are the fluffiest, moistest, softest little white cupcakes. They are lightly sweet and have a mellow vanilla flavor. I had him add extra vanilla because... well... vanilla is yummy. I can't get enough. They are filled with raspberry and white nectarine compote, which isn't overbearingly sweet. It's tart enough to stand up to the frosting, but it doesn't overpower the delicate little cake. It's pretty darn good. Then he topped them with a dollop of extra, EXTRA, EXTRA vanilla butter cream frosting. It's perfectly smooth and soft and whipped up so it's like a little pillow of creamy sweetness. Then he dropped on the rest of the compote. This is more than a crush. This is true love. I may have to dedicate a side of the bed to these little babies. They are that good. Just no one tell Brandon. He may decide he likes baking, and I swear, if he keeps baking better than me, I'm going to be upset because I like having that.

This is me being thrilled to death with my cupcake. I didn't actually die, but almost.

This is Brandon enjoying the last bite of his.


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