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| Strawberry Cupcakes with strawberry meringue buttercream |
A writer both in nature and in trade, I have also found myself dabbling in acrylics, charcoal, water colours and the occasional hour of arts and crafts (if ONLY I had a room dedicated to such stuff--I can only imagine the possibilities...and the chaotic mess: bliss!).
However, for the past year or so I've been unable to resist an obsession with sweet culinary arts--cupcakes, to be more specific. I cannot pass a storefront laden with petite cakes topped with every kind of fluffy frosting imaginable. If I am forced to do so, it makes my heart ache like parting from a loved one. I might just be the eccentric fan with my face plastered to the glass in front of someone's cupcake shop, a goofy-happy grin taking over my features.
And the weird thing is, I'm not usually that kind of person. Most people stare at me in shock and horror when they learn I don't like chocolate.
My hankering for sweets, on the whole, is pretty low, but there is something about getting just a tiny taste of heaven in each beautifully crafted cupcake that makes my heart smile. They are simple, but beautiful. And who says no to a cupcake? Crazy people, that's who.
About six months ago, I purchased my very first cupcake pan, pastry bag set, paper liners and various other amateur-baker supplies. I was dead set on delving into this world of delectable pastries, not only to be a part of the receiving side of things, but also to be on the powerful side of creation.
I have to admit--and I'm sure my husband will verify this recollection with a wide-eyed expression--that my first attempts were...well...not full of art or beauty. But there's a certain splendour in the evolution of creation, from one mold to the next, and I have come to a level of craftiness with my cupcake baking that I like to describe as pleasurable experimentation (now both for the creator and those that partake in the creation).
My designs are simple, but delicious and totally worth the 3-6 hours of sometimes hair-pulling exploits it takes to get that perfectly coiffed cupcake.
This evening, my creation of choice was a Strawberry Cupcake with strawberry meringue buttercream frosting. Despite numerous steps, the cake portion of the recipe went pretty smoothly; so, while they scented the room with an intoxicating aroma that wafted from the oven, I set about creating the frosting.
Towards the very end of the whole process, I watched in mute terror as my previous smooth and creamy concoction of eggs, sugar, butter and strawberry puree turned to an awful, curdling mess. The more I beat, the uglier it got.
I turned off the mixer, feeling completely defeated. I scanned the page of my baking guide for clues in the recipe as to what I did wrong. In an effort to change it's state, I threw the whole bowl in the fridge and slammed the door. Near tears, I paced around my kitchen, at a loss for what to do.
What was a cupcake without it's frosting? A stupid, muffin-cupcake half-breed, that's what.
Picking up the recipe book once more, I flipped through some of the previous recipes. And that's when I landed on the answer, in another variation for my strawberry meringue buttercream: "Don't worry if the mixture appears to separate, or 'curdle' after you've added the butter; simply continue beating on medium-speed, and it will become smooth again."
Well, thanks Martha Stewart. Mind putting that little tidbit of crucial information on every page of the buttercream recipes?!?!
And sure enough, when I rescued my mixture from the fridge and set to beating it once more, the hideous chunks and unsightly separation soon evened out into a lovely, creamy frosty.
My cupcakes were a scrumptious success. But the incident with the curdling got me thinking.
In our lives, when the going gets rough, when our relationships and jobs and faith and home renovation projects look out of sorts, like a disgusting curdled mess, how often do we just give up? We call it straight-shooting. "I call a spade a spade, a mess a mess and I get out quick. Start again." We don't want to "waste time" pursuing a situation that doesn't look promising at the current moment.
But if only we took the time to wait out the panic, flip the pages and discover the one piece of advice that could save us from so much of the heartache of life: "Don't worry if things are ugly at the moment. Simply continue on the speed you were at and it will become smooth again."
In a culture that makes it bread and butter off of the "I want it now" mentality, this simple lesson, which everyone's grandparents could tell us if we took the time to listen, is seriously hard to put into practise. We've been programmed to think a different way. We avoid things we aren't naturally good at. We reject our faith during the storms, when we need it most. We give into a tantrum-tossing child because the television isn't as loud as their screams. We throw away the years we spent building a relationship because we can't figure out how to get past a hurdle. We pitch home-cooked meals in favour of "15 minutes or less" takeout.
But you never know. That moment in which we decide to abandon all ships could be that instant before the tide turns and just a second, minute, hour, day, year longer might have meant smooth sailing ahead.
So, I suppose that's my challenge. Don't give up. Keep on keepin' on. Fight the good fight. And at the end of the day, when the battle is won, celebrate: have a cupcake.
