The Perfect Pink Cupcake

Remember several years ago when everyone was obsessed with Magnolia Bakery? You know the place, down in Greenwich Village? Or is it SoHo? Anyway, everyone was losing their minds over their cupcakes, and quite literally could not get enough of them. (They used to ration how many each customer could buy each day. Maybe they still do.) And that, in my opinion, is what started the whole cupcake obsession that is still going strong in this country.

So once the cookbook was published, I, along with everyone else who does not live anywhere near Bleeker Street, bought it and went to work. I made batch after batch of them — vanilla cupcakes with pink vanilla buttercream. It's true.

While roaming around Manhattan a handful of years ago, I convinced Michael that we should walk ourselves over to this fancy (and rather famous) little bakery and try a few things. We walked and we walked and we walked; it was about 80 blocks in all, because we had just left the Met. Finally, with grumpy dispositions and aching feet, we'd arrived. And do you know what? They were closed. That's right — the dirty bastards were closed, and it wasn't even a holiday. After all that! I didn't know whether to sit down and cry, or to start shouting profanity at the top of my lungs, aimed directly at their empty shop. Luckily for Michael, I did neither. Instead, I kept my chin up and got over it. And in the same moment, I got over Magnolia Bakery entirely. Because, to be perfectly honest, after all that hype, I don't think they are that grand. I have done loads of cupcake recipes since that completely outshine Magnolia. (However, I do like their peanut butter cookies and many of their muffin recipes.)

And then one day I nearly stopped making cupcakes altogether. That is because it is so much more fun to take Emilia to some lovely little shop and buy them. It becomes our exciting outing for the day, as it were.

As we were out and about yesterday, we decided to pop into Redmond Town Center for a quick trip to Pinkalicious Cupcakes. Cupcakes weren't sounding good to me in the least, but I had promised Emilia (as she was quick to remind me). I picked out two: chocolate and salted caramel buttercream, again, and dark chocolate with orange buttercream. And she picked out two: vanilla with chocolate buttercream and vanilla with pink vanilla buttercream.

We (and by we, I mean I) decided to share one 'tuptate' after dinner. (Michael won't eat them on account of his girlish figure, I expect.) She chose the pink one, and still not in the mood for a cupcake, I reluctantly agreed. And what can I say? It was, without a doubt, one of the best cupcakes I've ever had. How odd. There was no chocolate, no cream cheese, and none of my other ordinary (and essential) criteria. Instead, it was vanilla; and pink vanilla, at that!

This is why it was so good. The pink cupcake was simple; it was unfettered and perfect. You know you've struck upon something when you can do that. It's the ability to take something so simple and so basic and master it. That requires skill.

This is the cupcake that kids everywhere will love. This is the cupcake to serve at a child's birthday party. This is the cupcake to share with your daughter after a very long day. And this is the cupcake to enjoy while sitting on the curb in front of Magnolia, shouting random obscenities all the while, I'm sure. (I know I should be nice. Magnolia is, afterall, an institution in its own right.)

And I just want to say well done. What more is there?