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Cupcake Hell

In my ongoing quest to size up the LA cupcake competition, I attended the LA Cupcake Challenge on Sunday.

Someone's plate

It’s a showcase of just some of the many cupcake purveyors in LA. I should say even more of the many because I had never even heard of most bakeries in attendance. Therefore, I summed up the majority as caterers, South Bayers or imposters.

In my mind, I had envisioned a sophisticated event with a group of Westside moms or young publicist types nibbling on preciously displayed confections. The $40 price tag seemed just steep enough to keep out the riffraff.

Well, either there was a rumor Taylor Swift would be there or someone airdropped tickets on Disneyland because the place was a zoo. I felt like I was on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange except that it was littered with cupcake wrappers instead of numbers. Attendees barreled from station to station, balancing cumbersome boxes full of mini cupcakes on one hip and their child on another. At the tables, teens poured over their scorecards like science fair judges, while the adults reclined in sugar coma.

Hungry hippos

Because windowless banquet rooms in general make me want to run in fear, I went for the “go with your gut” approach, meaning I immediately stuffed each cupcake in my mouth in the hopes that the winner would stand out upon contact and I could get the hell out of there. In terms of speed, this technique was only moderately effective because after popping each cupcake, I would spend the next 10 minutes looking for the closest trashcan, only to return to the first one I’d found, in disbelief that THERE WAS ONLY ONE TRASHCAN IN THE WHOLE ROOM (this happened several times).

Call me with an offer, People Magazine.

In terms of analysis, I firmly believe in my technique because the winner dazzled me the second I tasted it. It was the Mix and Mingle by Layers. It’s a Naja Tea infused coconut cupcake filled with Coconut and Chocolate creme. Frosted with Coconut Swiss Meringue Buttercream and topped with toasted shaved coconut and chocolate powder. I loved it because the coconut and chocolate were not too rich and neither overwhelmed the other. And best of all, the coconut on top had the perfect hint of salt. Let me emphasize hint of salt because a few other contenders took this salty pastry craze waaaay too far. Sweet and salty may be a match made in heaven, but too much salt in anything is just not good.

For me, the Mix and Mingle is the only cupcake worth mentioning because after four or five mini cupcakes, the rest just tasted gross (though it took me another 12-15 to figure that out). I spent a few more minutes snapping paparazzi shots of the Nesquik bunny and several more elbowing my way out of there, but finally I found my way to the door and meandered home, savoring the taste of sweet freedom.

Lemon Blackberry Stratified Experiment

I said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m doing a wedding cake tasting for some very sophisticated people and I want everything to be perfect. I have a solid list of cakes, fillings and buttercreams, but the combinations are where things are really going to happen.

The wedding colors are yellow and black, so I thought lemon and blackberry would make a nice flava and style combo. The details of said combo are where things get more involved. Will I use straight up lemon curd with blackberry jam?  Or what about lemon mousse for a lighter, creamier effect? Blackberry mousse might be nice, too. And speaking of mousse, a little white chocolate could give it some richness and reinforcement. I had no choice but to set up the chemistry lab and try them all.

My vehicle was the 9-inch cake layer I had lying around. I torted it twice to make three layers, divided it into 9 pieces, and filled and frosted each piece individually. I wouldn’t recommend this technique if you’re aiming for presentation, but as long as the buttercream was well-represented, it worked for this purpose. Then I lined ‘em up and we knocked ‘em down.

The Elements

Lemon Curd

Blackberry Preserves

Lemon Mousse

Lemon White Chocolate Mousse

Blackberry Mousse

Blackberry White Chocolate Mousse

The Combos (by ranking)

After

Before

1. Lemon Mousse + Blackberry Preserves

2. Lemon Curd + Blackberry Preserves

3. Lemon White Chocolate + Lemon Curd

4. Lemon Curd + Blackberry Mousse

5. Lemon Curd + Blackberry White Chocolate

6. Lemon White Chocolate + Blackberry Preserves

The results came as quite a surprise, mainly because the white chocolate whipped cream, which I had hoped would emerge as the dark horse, was overwhelming. I guess I could decrease the amount and play around with ratios, but I’m not devastated to scrap the idea because that white chocolate stuff can be controversial.

The lemon mousse and blackberry won unanimously among the judges. It was a lovely combo of light and creamy lemon and unadulterated blackberry. The more potent combo of the uncut lemon curd and blackberry was quite exhilarating, but I preferred the more delicate lemon mousse. If the couple wants full lemon effect, the lemon curd with lemon white chocolate fit the bill, but I will make a plain lemon mousse instead of white chocolate. All in all, it was a fun and tasty experiment that I would recommend to math and science teaches across the globe.

The Recipes:

These are the base recipes. Mix and match to your heart’s content.

Lemon Curd (adapted from Bon Appetit March 1998)

**Delicious on homemade biscuits.**

• 3/4 cup plus 6 tablespoons sugar
• 4 large eggs
• 4 large egg yolks
• 1 cup fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons (1 1/4 sticks) unsalted butter

Whisk 3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar, eggs and yolks in medium stainless steel bowl. Bring lemon juice and butter to boil in heavy small saucepan. Gradually whisk hot lemon mixture into egg mixture. Set bowl over saucepan of simmering water (do not allow bottom of bowl to touch water). Stir until beginning to thicken and thermometer inserted into mixture registers 160—F, about 4 minutes. Strain curd into a small bowl. Press plastic wrap onto surface of curd; refrigerate until cold.

Fresh Blackberry Preserves (adapted from “Wedding Cakes You Can Make” by Dede Wilson)

• 4 cups blackberries
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 2 T water (optional)
• 1 t lemon juice

Pick over the blackberries and remove any stems or leaves. Place in a large saucepan with the sugar and water (if they’re juicy, don’t use water). Stir to combine. Place over medium-low heat and cook until the mixture comes to a simmer. Simmer, stirring frequently, until thickened, about 30 minutes. The mixture will resemble jam and it will become spreadable as it cools. Place mixture in a food processor and puree. Strain out the seeds and add the lemon juice. Allow to cool to room temperature. When cooled, refrigerate overnight.

White Chocolate Cream (adapted from Bon Appetit July 2008)

**Also wonderful in coffee.**

• 6 ounces high-quality white chocolate (I used Valrhona), chopped
• 1 1/2 cups heavy whipping cream

Place chocolate in medium bowl. Bring cream to simmer in small saucepan. Pour hot cream over chocolate; let stand 1 minute, then whisk until smooth. Cover with plastic wrap and chill until cold and thickened, at least 6 hours or overnight.  Using electric mixer, beat white chocolate cream until soft peaks form.

Whipped Cream

• 1 cup heavy cream

As Dylan McKay’s answering machine said– “You know the drill.”

This cake is duck soup

Helicopter view

It was a hot winter night in LA. A chopper hovered over the Boulevard and a frightened skunk cleared the streets down below. In the apartment, the Olympics flickered in the background and the dog panted from lack of activity. It was the kind of night for love or murder. Or a birthday cake.

The dame’s name was Stephanie. She was a real dish with a nice set of pins. She liked her cake sweet and her wine sweeter. She was a shamus back in the day, but now she was straight as an arrow, except she did like her giggle juice. Her present was going to be a stack of berries and a string of oyster fruit, but a cake would have to do this time. We were meeting at a hash house downtown to nibble one and maybe dip the bill. Little did we know we were about to go over the edge with the rams. Glad none of us ended up under glass.

Whoa, someone just discovered the Gumshoe dictionary.

The fondant that wasn't there.

This is how it really happened: Stephanie requested yellow cake with chocolate icing for her birthday. Always keen to try new yellow cake recipes, I took the opportunity to christen yet another Christmas present—the “All Cakes Considered” cookbook. It chronicles a series of cakes that one of the producers made each week for a year. I am quite the fan of NPR and although I’m still battling through the workday when “All Things Considered” airs, I trust that the smart people there know how to make a good cake.

This is a whipped cream cake, which means that instead of using the typical base of creamed butter, it calls for two cups of heavy cream, whipped. I wish I knew enough about the scientifics to explain why and how the finished products are different, but that will have to remain a mystery.

Whipped Cream Cake (adapted from “All Cakes Considered”)

Makes 2 9-inch or 3 8-inch layers

Whipped cream action shot.

2 cups sugar

3 cups cake flour, sifted

1/2 t. salt

4 t. baking powder

4 large eggs

2 cups heavy whipping cream

2 t. vanilla

Place you mixer bowl and wire whisk attachment in the freezer. This helps the whipping process (another mystery).

Center a rack in the oven and preheat to 350º. Spray the cake pans with baking spray, line the bottoms with parchment paper and spray again.

Parchment circles from Surfas are my new love.

In one bowl, measure your sugar. In a second bowl, sift together your flour, salt and baking powder. In a third bowl, beat your eggs with a handheld mixer until thick.

Remove bowl and whisk from freezer. Pour the cream in the bowl and whip on med-high to high speed until the cream is as thick as Cool Whip, about 2-3 mins.

Slow the mixer to medium and add the beaten eggs. Return to med-high and whip until the mixture is slightly foamy. Slow the mixer to medium and gradually add the sugar and vanilla.

Stop the mixer, remove the whisk attachment and replace with the paddle. Scrape down the bowl. With the mixer on medium, gradually add the flour mixture. Pour the batter equally into the prepared pans. Bake for 20-30 mins, rotating every 15 mins. The cake is done when a tester comes out clean and the cake pulls away from the sides of the pan. Cool for 10 mins, invert onto a wire rack and cool completely.

Chocolate Frosting

The frosting in the book seemed too thin and sweet, so I added twice the butter and a little more cocoa. A little improv, if you will.

2 sticks unsalted butter

In the box.

1 & 1/4 cup powdered cocoa

4 cups confectioners sugar

2/3 cup milk

1 1/2 t. vanilla

Melt the butter in the microwave. Pour butter into the mixing bowl and add 1 cup of the cocoa. Mix on med-low until smooth. Gradually add the confectioners’ sugar, alternating with the milk (don’t add all the milk if not necessary). Add more cocoa if you like. Mix until smooth. Add the vanilla and mix until incorporated.

Top Dog Birthday Cake

Bad lighting, sweet cake!

Thanks to my new 0% APR credit card, I’ve been bringing home all sorts of new merch. A touchless sensor trashcan, a coat rack, and best of all, “Rose’s Heavenly Cakes,” the new cookbook by Rose Levy Beranbaum.

Rose Levy Beranbaum (or as I call her, Rose Levy Beranbaum-chica-baum-baum, because her name isn’t long enough) ruled the cake world long before people like the Ace and the Boss came around.  Her book, “The Cake Bible,” is the sacred tome for anyone interested in taking all the fun out of baking a cake. It’s heavy reading combined with lots of math, and there are hardly any pictures. Still, I should have it, but I don’t. Blasphemous.

So, when I read on the Internet that “Rose’s Heavenly Cakes” is like an updated version of “The Cake Bible”—some basic recipes, lots of new innovation–it sounded like it was time to get me some RLB.

Stellar cakes require tough measures.

Rose’s cakes are indeed heavenly. They’re elegant and whimsical and absolutely top-notch. They are like the Kennedys of cakes. However, unlike the Kennedys, all that polish is hard-earned. This is the type of book that instills fear in people. All the weight measurements and thermometer readings and step after wearying step are more than most people sign up for. It honestly took me a few reads to recognize some familiar instructions buried within the constant temperature checks. Seriously, these ingredients have their temperature taken more than a sniffly 4^th grader with a neurotic mother.

Secret ingredient

But, like any good mother, Rose knows what’s best for you. Each intricate detail is printed to ensure that the outcome is nothing less then divine. And, speaking from experience, the tedium will serve you well when you bake the cake that finally makes up for ruining your best friend’s 21^st birthday by getting completely hammered without her and then taking her to the bars with only 20 minutes left to celebrate. Yes, I was that person.

And yes, a cake can be an apology, so 10 years later I’m making it up to my best girl with a white chocolate layer cake with raspberry mousseline and dark chocolate frosting. This cake was special for many reasons that I’ll list here:

1. A regular white cake is imbued with white chocolate for a richer flavor.
   

   crown jewel

2. This was my first attempt at mousseline (Mousselini?) and I love it! It’s like an extra light buttercream that’s just a tad bit more refined than a mousse.
3. The chocolate icing was deep and dark and easy to work with after a few attempts.
4. I made my first fondant Chihuahua, as that would be the pinnacle of this particular cake/apology.
5. I got even more mileage out of the edible flowers that have appeared in the past several posts.

Chocolate-covered Raspberry Cake (adapted from Rose’s Heavenly Cakes by Rose Levy “The Baum” Beranbaum)

Batter:

8 oz white chocolate (with cocoa butter, not palm kernel or anything of the sort)

6 large egg whites (180 grams), at room temperature

1 ½ c milk (322 grams)

1 T vanilla extract

4 c sifted cake flour (400 grams)

1 ½ c superfine sugar (300 grams)

5 ½ t baking powder

1 t salt

12 T (1 ½ sticks) butter (170 grams)

Set oven rack in lower third of the oven and preheat oven to 350°. Coat two 9 by 2-inch round cake pans with cooking spray, line the bottom with parchment and spray the parchment. Also prepare 2 cupcake liners because apparently this recipe makes enough batter for exactly 2 cakes and 2 cupcakes–precision, precision, precision.

Melt white chocolate in a bowl set over hot, not simmering, water, stirring often–do not let the bottom of the bowl touch the water. Remove the bowl from the heat and stir until melted with a silicone spatula. Allow to cool until it is no longer warm to the touch but is still fluid.

In a medium bowl, whisk the egg whites, 1/3 c of milk & the vanilla until lightly combined.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle, mix the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt on a low speed for 30 seconds. Add the butter and the remaining milk. Mix on low speed until the dry ingredients are moistened. Raise the speed to medium and beat for 1 1/2 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl.

Starting on med-low speed, gradually add the egg mixture to the batter in three parts, beating on med speed for 20 seconds after each addition to incorporate the ingredients. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Add the melted white chocolate and beat to incorporate it, about 10 seconds. Spoon the batter into the cupcake liners, filling them 2/3 full. Divide the remaining batter between the prepared pans and smooth the surface with an offset spatula.

Bake for 30-40 minutes (25-30 mins for the cupcakes), or until golden brown, a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean, and the cakes spring back when pressed lightly in the centers.

Let the cakes cool in the pans of a wire rack for 10 mins. Run a small spatula around the edge and invert onto wire racks that have been coated lightly with cooking spray. To prevent splitting, flip the cakes so the top sides are up. Cool completely.

Whew! I’m tired. More on the mousseline in good time.

Passion Fruit Pure(e)

assembly station

The tasting preparations continue, and thanks to the Haiti bake sale, I could be charitable with the samples instead of stuffing them all in my mouth. I chose to make a vanilla cupcake filled with passion fruit mousse because, um, passion fruit is the bomb and would easily get my vote for president if it ever thought of running.

I pulled out a recipe that called for 1/3 cup passion fruit puree, which I knew would be a small challenge to find. Even though people on Chowhound suggest going with Goya brand, I ventured to Surfas because, when I think of Goya, I think of beans, not wedding cakes. Surfas had a 1 kg container of Boiron puree in the freezer section. Not really what I had in mind because a) it was frozen, b) it was way more than I needed and c) it was $22! Ok, maybe the bang for your buck made more sense compared to what I ended up doing, but that’s why it’s called hindsight—a concept I’m all too familiar with. Besides, I had already left Culver City and I wasn’t going back.

And I wasn’t going to Food 4 Less for Goya brand either. This was puree nonsense!  I was going pure or I was going home. (bad, I know)

ugly

After an unsuccessful trip to Super King in Glendale, I found the real deal at Pavilions West Hollywood. They have everything—at exorbitant prices and not always in the freshest state. (Really, check your local farmers market before splurging on their designer produce. Also, please buy enoki mushrooms at a Japanese market on Sawtelle for $.89 instead of paying $4 per package for the limp, tangled specimens at Pavilions.) But until my friend with a yard reads this and plants some high-yielding passion fruit limbs, I have no choice but to brave Weho. There, in the elite fruit section I indeed found the dark, gnarly gems. I picked out a few (how do you pick purple passion fruit anyway?—they’re all ugly), paid a pretty penny for them and headed home, where I continued to flush money down the drain by not using them properly.

ice bath

The inside of a passion fruit is composed of rows of black seeds surrounded by juicy golden pulp. I dumped the whole mess in a strainer, extracted half a tablespoon of juice and tossed the seeds in the garbage. Big mistake, dummy! Most of the pulp is attached to the seeds! How do you detach it? Put everything in a food processor or blender and pulse it up. Like you, I also thought that this would crush the seeds into an oblivion, but don’t worry, they’re tough. The blender strips them of the goods so you can discard the gravel sans last week’s paycheck, which works out well because you will need that money to buy out the rest of the passion fruit supply at Pavilions in order to make enough puree for this recipe. Have fun!

voila!

Passion Fruit Puree (adapted from Martha Stewart Wedding Cakes) – makes 3 cups

3 large eggs

1/3 cup sugar

1/3 passion fruit puree

1 T unsalted butter

1/4 cup fresh orange juice

2 t powdered gelatin (*see below)

1 cup heavy cream

1. Fill a medium bowl with ice water, set aside. In a small saucepan, whisk together the eggs and sugar. Add passion fruit puree. Cook, stirring constantly, over medium-low heat until the mixture thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon (nape, that’s called), about 3 minutes. Remove from the heat, add the butter and stir well to combine.

2. In a medium saucepan, combine the orange juice and 2 T cold water. Sprinkle the gelatin over the orange-juice mixture, let stand for 5 minutes. Place over low heat until the gelatin is completely dissolved, about 2 minutes.

3. Pour the passion fruit mixture through a fine sieve or chinois into a nonreactive bowl. Stir in the gelatin mixture. Place the bowl over the ice water, whisk constantly until the mixture has cooled.

4. In a chilled bowl, whip the heavy cream until stiff peaks form, about 3 minutes. Whisk one-third of the whipped cream into the passion fruit mixture. Then, in two additions, fold the lightened passion fruit mixture into the remaining whipped cream. Transfer the mixture to a pastry bag fitted with a round tip, set aside.

*I believe the mousse has this much gelatin because it’s designed for a wedding cake which has to be structurally sound. I’m going to try decreasing the gelatin next time because after chilling overnight, the texture was a bit Nerf-y.

Bake Sale Lesson Learned

I learned something this weekend. Bake sales aren’t competitions.

I swallowed that tough pill at the Haiti bake sale yesterday, as I saw my winning cupcakes get shoved under a table because it was already jam packed with the cakes and cookies of the million other people who baked to help the people of Haiti. Clearly everyone’s a baker at a time like this–or so they think. I had spent all day Saturday and early Sunday traversing greater LA in search of fresh passion fruit (West Hollywood Pavilions) and edible flowers (Hollywood Farmers Market, wish I had noted the stand) so that they would be the perfect combo of taste and style. But by the time I arrived (note to self: arrive 2 hours before the designated drop off time), the table was like the Arclight parking lot on the opening night of Avatar. My dolled-up cupcakes were relegated to the hot sidewalk underneath, likely to emerge hours later in a puddle of melted buttercream and dead flowers. They had fallen victim to the overwhelming goodwill of the people of LA. I had no choice but to lurk nearby and keep a close eye on the situation, like a mother waiting for her kid to get picked for a kickball team.

The situation only deteriorated as my irresistible cupcakes got buried underneath every late arrival of scraggly-edged Saran-wrapped brownies.

“How could a person hand over those indecent brownies with a straight face?” I growled.

“It’s just a bake sale. That’s the kind of thing people make,” Steve told me.

People not enjoying my cupcakes.

“Uh, no. It’s not like when we were kids, Steve. This is the age of the Food Network.” Or at least that’s what I tried to tell myself as yet another person arrived with yet another batch of cupcakes fit only for a preschool graduation party. Jeez, the people of Haiti were really going to make out on this one.

“It’s the thought that counts, Sarah.”

“Oh yeah, well here’s a thought. I’m going to take my cupcakes back and sell them across the street at my own bake sale. What do you think about that? I bet the people of Haiti would appreciate that!”

Relax. I didn’t do that.

Instead, I got in line and bought every single dried out brownie and vegan whoopie pie on an area of the table “perfectly big enough to welcome my remarkable cupcakes,” I pointed out to someone in charge.

That didn’t happen either. (But I wish I had thought of it at the time because it just could have been a win-win.)

My cupcakes before the event.

My cupcakes at the event.

Finally, I just whispered some encouraging words to my cupcakes so they wouldn’t have a meltdown, and I went home and quietly devoured the Duncan Hines brownie I bought to support the people of Haiti.

Bake Sale Lesson #1: No one is going to publicly acknowledge you for going all out and making cupcakes with fresh fruit and schmancy buttercream. A batch of brownies from the box will raise the same amount of dough for the cause. I suppose the people of Haiti aren’t going to be picky about the quality of baked good involved in rebuilding their country.

P.S. The bake sale raised $5000 for Haiti Relief. In the end, my cupcakes were honored to be a part of it.

After all that crying, I have been informed by an insider that my babies did, in fact, make it on the table. Here’s evidence.

Adapted from…? Read the fine comments.

before

after

Sooooooo, I’m doing a wedding cake tasting! I mean, for someone else. I’ll be making the cake, not tasting it. Just so we’re clear. You see, ever since my cousin’s wedding cake was a screaming success, it boosted my confidence in the large-scale baking category, and I’m ready to keep the momentum going. “Use it or lose it,” as my dad says. So much for cutting back on the baking and subsequent tasting and poundage involved in 2010. Who cares about a perfect body if you’ve mastered the perfect passion fruit mousse, right?

While last time was all about developing the foundation recipes—the cakes, the buttercream—this round will be devoted to expanding my repertoire. We’re focusing on bright, fruity flavors for their springtime affair, so I immediately looked to Smitten Kitchen for the mango curd recipe she made for her friends’ wedding cake.

Smitten Kitchen helped me tremendously in preparation for my first big cake. It was comforting to read another amateur’s journey into the daunting world of wedding cakes. She asked the tough questions (how to avoid the tiers sticking together) and shared her struggles (the Swiss buttercream!). I literally sat at my desk on a slow day and read all 200+ comments in which people offered up tips, advice, encouragement—it was like group therapy for the nutcases who agree to attempt such a feat.

So, back to the mango curd, which I’ve been eager to try ever since I laid eyes on it. It’s a straightforward combo of fresh mango, sugar, egg yolk and lime juice, and I was going to test it on yellow butter cake with Italian meringue buttercream. I woke up early Sunday morning to make it, and I let it chill in the fridge all day. However, when I tasted it in the evening, I could hardly detect the mango! It was all but lime curd! This called for an investigation.

The extent of my math skills.

I took another look at SK and noticed that the recipe was adapted from a previous one (as most recipes on blogs are) that was published in Bon Appetit June 1998. I clicked on the link which took me to my beloved Epicurious.com. Now, just as I had read all 200+ comments on SK, I never make a recipe on Epicurious without reading a good handful of the people’s comments. I strongly believe in the voice of the people to give it to me straight. And, sure enough, the comments on the mango curd revealed the truth—everyone thought it tasted like lemon/lime curd and not a thing like mango! Maybe the flavor got lost in the cooking process, maybe the recipe called for too much citrus juice—whatever the reason, this was not the best recipe for full mango flavor explosion. I wonder why SK didn’t mention that in her experience. Deb, if you’re reading this (in my dreams), do tell. And potential clients, if you’re reading this (probably a long shot, as well), don’t worry—I will persevere until I achieve the full mango flavor explosion that you and your guests deserve.

No chillin’ for cupcakes

Sprinkles - fyi, don't eat the doo dad on top.

Yeah, I ate 11 cupcakes this weekend. I’m not proud of it, but it was for work. You see, I’ve been telling myself I’m going to open a bakery someday with the best cupcakes in town, so I need to test out the competition, right? Like I said, work.

Let me start by saying that I don’t understand why all cupcakeries look like hospital waiting rooms. They’re all white and cold and, despite the girly graphics and, well, cupcakes, they make me feel like I’m getting a prescription filled. I agree that the kitchen itself should be clean and industrial, but let’s warm up the shop a bit. (Disclaimer for Santa Monica shops: Too cozy could = too many homeless people. You’re ok.)

VBS - blackberry buttercream is my new favorite condiment.

My first stop was, of course, Miss Popular of them all—Sprinkles. I was curious about their lemon cupcake because that’s a recipe I’m currently working on. And I bought 5 others, just to make it even. Even though it was the first place I tried, the cake at Sprinkles will be hard to beat. It is incredibly moist, almost as if they took the pan out of the oven a nanosecond early and let it finish baking on the rack. The icing, however, is pretty standard. Loved the lemon, skip the vanilla/vanilla (don’t know who orders that anyway, but it’s a good constant in a research project).

Next I tried Vanilla Bake Shop. Their Meyer Lemon Raspberry cupcake is filled with lemon curd, so I had to see how that worked. The curd had a good pucker but what really made me happy was the frosting. VBS has got the frosting DOWN. I’m just guessing, but it tastes like they use an authentic Italian or Swiss buttercream instead of the American butter/shortening/10X combo.  Heaven. However, pleasure comes at a price—the delicate buttercream may be the reason the cupcakes are refrigerated, which unfortunately kills the cake. I couldn’t imagine why the cake was so dry until I remembered how the girl at Sprinkles grabbed my hand and said, “Whatever you do, DO NOT refrigerate them.” Although the vanilla buttercream at VBS is phenomenal and I could eat the blackberry buttercream by the bowl, the cake gets sacrificed for its glory. Fortunately, they also have un-refrigerated cupcakes on glass pedestals—I’d stick to those.

Meyer lemon with sunglasses

carnage

Not yummy

Finally, since you can’t throw a stone from VBS without hitting Yummy, I relented and made one more purchase for testing purposes only—vanilla with vanilla frosting. One word—Ralph’s. Which is great if you like gorging yourself on grocery store cake at office parties (I always go for the corner piece with a big pastel flower and a 70:30 icing to cakeratio). But when you’re looking for a refined cupcake, crusty icing and crumbly cake just don’t cut it. But, hey, I will hand it to Yummy for mixing it up with a little rock n’ roll vibe. I just hope “Livin’ on a Prayer” isn’t an accurate take on their future. My physique, on the other hand….

Call me Carmella

Just like grandma. But easier. (The machine, I mean.)

For Christmas, my parents had bought me a West Coast version of my beloved Kitchen Aid mixer. We decided it would be less of a hassle than shipping my old one from home, so yes, I now have a Kitchen Aid for both coasts. The PA Kitchen Aid is white. The LA Kitchen Aid is big and black. I call it Dr. Dre.

The West  Coast Kitchen Aid now has even more bling–a pasta attachment. Steve surprised me with it for Christmas, and I was psyched because the only other pasta maker I’ve had was one with a crank, which seems quite simple for other people to use, but was a struggle for me. Maybe it was because I used all semolina flour, which I now know is wrong, but I’m not going to dwell–the Kitchen Aid is here.

For my first shot at the gadget, I made plain pasta, nothing fancy, from The Naked Chef cookbook. If it were earlier in the day, I would have sought out 00 flour (which is the correct ingredient), but Jamie uses bread flour, which I have plenty of from the bread that I never get around to baking. The dough is a snap to make, just toss 5 eggs, 3 1/2 cups bread flour and some salt in the mixer and mix with the dough hook for about 3 mins. Jamie doesn’t use salt or olive oil in the dough, but we used olive oil in the countless batches of pasta dough I made at Craft, so I went with real life experience and drizzled a bit in the bowl.

For the sauce, I took inspiration from Jamie’s Pappardelle with Sweet Leeks and Mascarpone because the market is practically overrun with leeks these days. Steve had brought pancetta home from the store, so I started with that and took my own liberties from there. Here’s what I came up with:

Fettuccine with Crimini Mushrooms, Leeks and Mascarpone

3 oz diced pancetta

1 T butter

1 leek

8 oz. crimini mushrooms, sliced

1 clove garlic

splash of white wine

8 oz mascarpone

chopped tomato

sliced pepperoncini, if you will

half batch of pasta (see above)

Saute the pancetta until crispy and remove from pan. Dump some of the grease, but not all, and add butter to the pan. Saute leeks for about 5-10 mins, until soft. Add mushrooms and garlic. Saute for about 5 mins. Add a little wine for flavor. Simmer for about 5 mins. Add the mascarpone and melt into the leek-mushroom medley. Season with salt and freshly ground pepper.

Make pasta following Kitchen Aid instructions. Boil pasta in salted water until al dente. Drain and serve with sauce, a little chopped tomato and a few sliced pepperoncinis if you like a kick.