The Frosting Didn't Turn Out: The Alex Hood Story

My BFF awesome friend Barbara (we'd judge me if I called her a BFF) likes to make up memoir titles for all of our friends. Mine is Classy With a Touch of Skank: The Alex Pineda Story. I can see why you might be shocked by the use of "skanky" in my title, but it's really harmless. And it's an inside joke that would just sound stupid if I explained it.

Anyway, my memoir title inspired the title for this post. Lately (as in every time except one), my buttercream frosting results have been less than acceptable. As in I almost always have to scrap the thing and start over and still don't get the consistency I need. This time was no different.

Like I've said before, my mom has loved the tiramisu cupcakes I make since the beginning. So naturally she asked if I would make some for my bro's family birthday get-together. Of course, I said yes. I've made 48 cupcakes before no problem. But then the guest list expanded and so did the required minimum number of cupcakes.

I knew I wouldn't have time to prep the cupcakes during the week and they're always better when baked fresh, so I planned to spend the morning of the party baking everything. The marscapone filling is easy peasy, so I wasn't worried. Naively enough, I wasn't worried about the frosting either. I have childbirth memory with homemade frosting. It's always so stressful and difficult and yet every single time I use the same recipe and do the same thing...which I guess is to inevitably add too much liquid because it always ends up runny.

The baking went alright. I should have remembered that I like to make big cupcakes, though. Tripling the recipe only gave me enough to make like 54 cupcakes. So Brandon quickly scurried across the street to Walmart and picked up enough ingredients to functionally quadruple the original recipe. I ended up having some left over batter, but was so over the initial baking phase that I stopped when I hit 72.

Stop! It's batter time! (even though this is the filling)

Hashtag food photography. Hashtag baking.

Hashtag cupcakes. Hashtag oven.

I was trying to juggle my time (unsuccessfully, I might add) and started on the cream cheese whipped topping. In my perfect hindsight, I think I shouldn't have aimed to make three times the original recipe all at once. I definitely should have held back from going big or going home. After half an hour of attempting to whip cream cheese and whipping cream into stiff peaked frosting, I freaked. It wasn't happening. I needed to get dressed. I needed to get ready. The horrible reminder of my failure was all over my shirt and pj pants. And I'd just washed them. I threw the stuff in the freezer to see if getting it cold would help. I didn't have the time to actually let it cool through. It didn't work, obvi. 2:20 crept up on me and I still had nothing to top my cupcakes with. My 72 ugly cupcakes. Brandon even tried his hand at whipping. He wasn't successful either.

My stubbornness had given out to my hatred of being late. I looked up a simple royal icing recipe because I just needed something and within minutes had a sugary icing for my cupcakes. Brandon lovingly made the executive decision that he would frost the things while I got dressed. We transported the cupcakes in what felt like a million containers and showed up half an hour after the party had already started. I'm the eldest sister and I was late. It still doesn't sit well with me.

Luckily, I have a very understanding and gracious family. My parents were both thrilled with the cupcakes and my aunts and uncles all told me they tasted delicious. I guess the taste really is what matters.

Happy birthday, brother!

It was a great party. There was lots of laughter and absolutely scrumptious chicken and so much food. I still can't believe my little brother is 13. Good grief, man.

♥ A