This isn't a cupcake. This is an abomination.
You don't have to tell me twice.
The saddest thing to happen to my kitchen since I moved in last Spring.
Flat. Gooey. Insulting.
The cat's out of the bag, fellow bakers; I will never be one of you. I most certainly am, however, a proud stationary slash anything pretty on paper, aficionado. Why does that matter? Because all it took was one sight of those flesh colored hearts, artfully dropped on crispy white-papered shells, for me to start pondering vanilla or.... vanilla.
Indeed. Some things don't need much thought. OH. And did I mention that said item was spotted at none other than one of the most underrated establishments also known as "Michael's: Where Creativity Happens." Or in my case: "Michael's: Where broke happens." (Those $.87 a pop thingamajigers, add up, let.me.tell YOU.)
Back to the story.
I did it for the wrappers. I knew I'd be found guilty from the first moment their sensual ridges hit my corneae.
Sometimes you just have to give in.
ps: Knock yourself out: www.minibaker.com/gluten-free-banana-cupcakes-with-cinnamon-honey-butter-cream/