Obviously, my cupcake obsession has far outweighed that of my interest in apples – you don’t see an apple project, do you? (Hmmm, ideas for the future.) Therefore, you can imagine my horror when I saw this menu item during a recent trip to Colorado: “cupcake.” Just cupcake? What would the flavor of the cake be? How about the frosting? Was there a ganache?
Had I become the wine snoot that I so often mock – just of the cupcake variety – quoting blogs from where recipes arrived, the way vineyards and vintages are spouted off? Shouldn’t the notion that a cupcake had made the menu please me? I asked the server what kind it was. I remember him mentioning a vanilla. Was the frosting also vanilla? It didn’t much matter what he had said, the fact that the menu had disrespected my dear cupcake by not adding so much as one descriptive word had turned me off.
- It wasn’t just a cobbler… it was a peach cobbler.
- It wasn’t just pie… it was apple pie.
- It wasn’t just pudding… it was butterscotch pudding.
- It wasn’t just cake… it was a coconut cake or a chocolate cake.