This is not my normal bag, which I’m going to use as an excuse for why these cupcakes are so … charmingly imperfect.
Let me get some controversy out of the way first: cake > cupcakes. Reasons:
1. Less work.
2. No guesswork as to which liners I over/underfilled. And I always do–what do I look like, a robot?
3. More cake, less frosting = my preference, #sorrynotsorry.
4. Utensils. Human mouths just don’t open in a manner that lets you eat cupcake and frosting together without making a mess of your face. It may be cute on kids, and , but I’m a grown woman and I need a fork.
5. Less. Work.
That said, there are definitely advantages to cupcakes–mainly the opportunity to do some serious quality control (as in, 3 cupcakes’ worth) before feeding your festive crowd. That kind of thorough investigation makes me way less nervous than I am before serving a cake. The inside of a cake is mysterious–not unlike the bottom of the ocean, with all of the crazy-ass fish that probably eat giant squid for breakfast. Who knows what’s going on under that frosting?
… I was going somewhere with that, I really was.
So I’m reading and laughing. To summarize it: as more and more women take a liking to the stuff, questions arise as to whether men will flee in fear of being associated with something ladies have come to enjoy. ‘Cause, you know, HORROR.
Is this really something people expect to happen? If so, have they tasted whiskey? The stuff is delicious. Also: Where exactly are these men going to flee? Paint thinner?
Let me point out the obvious: If a dude leaves the Whiskey Lovers’ Club because there are female humans there now, good riddance. He probably: (1) never really loved whiskey anyway and only drank it to be “manly” because it’s easier than building log cabins or whatever; and (2) never learned to share in kindergarten.
That was a ranty way to introduce a dessert to you. I’m sorry.
This thing is a cocktail lover’s dream: creamy and cool, with a hefty dash of bourbon, plus a generous shake of the ol’ Angostura bitters bottle. Bourbon and bitters x 2: into the panna cotta, and again into the fruit topping. I know we don’t do orange slices in an old-fashioned cocktail when we’re serious, but now, we’re in dessert mode. Additionally, if you don’t want to put juicy, boozy tangerines in your face, I… I can’t help you today.
Um, so. I don’t know what to tell you.
Water is wet. The sky is blue. Ice cream on a baguette is insanely awesome–as you might imagine.
I mean, as far as lovechildren go, I’m not aware of any bread-with-butter-and-jam/ice cream ones. To be honest, this is just me adding the butter-and-jam bit to . Plus, it was inspired by a gluttonous Twitter conversation with , whose blog just won Saveur’s editors’ choice cocktail blog of the year (BFD!!!), and .
So yeah–this is barely “mine,” but you need to know about it. It’s a world I never thought possible–and you might be in the same boat. There’s a better boat, friend. There is always a better boat, and in that boat, there are no limits to the ways in which carbs and ice cream can be friends. Butter is the skipper, obvs.
I like to think that I’m a reasonably smart lady (stop laughing).
That said, as it turns out, I need a tea towel–or some other convenient kitchen reminder–which says “Don’t touch your eye after handling jalapenos, you know what happens, you never learn, GOOD LORD woman, you are the reason I drink.” Or something to that effect.
Maybe it would help, maybe it wouldn’t–but nothing will make me love a hot pepper less. Nuh-thing.
Meyer Lemon Ice Cream with Candied Jalapenos
This is not news; I’ve put spicy serranos in ice cream before. I liked it. In this version, I went ahead and candied the jalapenos–less crunch, more chewiness. Actually, no crunch, all the chewiness–plus the nice effect of a more delayed heat. Either way, when something fresh and spicy is hiding in a scoop of something cool, creamy, and sweet, it’s a wonderful thing.
This ice cream is a wonderful thing. Make it, eat it–but don’t put it on your eyeballs. Life will suck so hard for you, my friend.
This is the closest thing I’ve had to a true calling.
Booze + ice cream. Join them in perfect harmony, then slip away quietly while they live together in forever-bliss and read the Sunday newspaper over coffee together. (Although, to be honest, I’m good at crosswords and they’ll probably call me about 16-down anyway.)
Campari, for the unfamiliar, is a bitter, citrusy Italian aperitif. If you’ve ever had a , Campari made it gorgeously red, bitter, and fragrant. Here, it makes bittersweet chocolate taste like… Just sweet chocolate. Campari laughs at the “bitter” in “bittersweet” 60% cacao. What is that, baby food?
If you would like Campari chip ice cream, you probably already know that. If you’re not sure… I’m not going to tell you to go buy a bottle so you can try this. I’m sensible. That said, you could just skip the Campari part: add some vanilla, mint extract, or leave it plain–I won’t judge you for missing out on the “bitter” part of this bitter, sweet, creamy, cool dream.