I love to bake. Mainly cupcakes. There is something about finding that perfect recipe that rises just right, and the frosting that isn’t too sweet.
I haven’t had much time to do it lately (lately being the last 6 months–oops), but for tomorrow I promised some for the neighbor’s Scarecrow party thing they throw for the block. Last year, I think I did Rolo cupcakes and churro ones, or something in that vein. So, I just spent 30 minutes trying to find a new recipe. I rarely duplicate a recipe, unless it is a real fave in my house. I like trying all new ones.
I’ve always wanted to try my hand at making my own dulce de leche (caramel-ish sauce), and that was one of the first things that the google search produced, so I decided to give it a whirl.
Tomorrow, I shall be concocting a dulce de leche cupcake with dulce de leche Swiss meringue buttercream. My husband will say it is too much work, and will remind me of such while I am creating them, but when he eats one, he’ll forget all about how much work it was (for me, mind you…he doesn’t help).
I love baking because it is a perfectly measured process, one which can give a great result if you do it right (I rarely don’t–but there was that one time…). It makes me feel good to have someone try what I made and them call me an asshole because they then want more and are on a diet. I think the first time this particular neighbor tried one of my cupcakes (lemon with raspberry frosting), his exact word was ‘Bitch’ across the fence, as he stuffed his face full of more cake.