chicago is a city of cupcakes. seriously. we are surrounded. by trixies, cabs, and cupcakes. my personal cupcake fetish was kicked off last winter, when i laid eyes upon a red velvet confection at eatzi's. it was the cupcake of my dreams. and because i have yet to fork over the $4, it is a decadent dream deferred.
a big fan of self-denial, healthy food and cheaptasticness, i very rarely partake of the hordes of cupcakes we encounter. thus, my appreciation is most often limited to lust. frequent whisphers, in salacious tones, of ooooh... look at that cupcake. it's kind of gross. it's kind of humbert humbert.
in the cupcake world, i'm a pretty big deal. i have, after all, earned the nickname "Cupcake." but only with the assembling of the cupcake mountain for the king's return did i realize a foul truth.
i hate white cupcakes. they will not mix properly. they will not pry from the pan. they have no structural integrity. their heads will not hold on to their bottoms. unlike their chocolate brethren, the white cupcakes made me doubt what no Cupcake should ever question: my own ability to cupcake. white cupcakes are an unruly bunch and they are now my forsworn enemies. yes, it's an ugly truth. i am a cupcake biggot. there. i said it.