I love cupcakes. They appeal to my love for frosting and cake nestled in a zigzagged liner. So, on a slow Tuesday, I decided to venture around Frisco, Texas and search for a quirky cupcake to chow on.
Frisco is a pretty sweet town. It's an outer-ring suburb of Dallas and is filled with mostly cash-fancy folks, pretty kids, brick, ivy-lined homes and sprawling lawns with purebred golden retrievers. I drove around the city looking for the perfect bakery. I was about to settle on cinnamon rolls and swedish meatballs from Ikea when I spotted a store that suited my needs. The Cupcakery. No frozen balls from Stockholm for me!
The Cupcakery is located on Lebanon and the Dallas Tollway. It is in a shopping precinct comprised of adobe-contemporary brick buildings with tinted windows surrounding the perimeter of each edifice. This is an 'I'm bored and rich' shopping plaza; it has a coffee shop, children's boutique, yogurt bar, the requisite clock tower and a bunch of other shops no normal, middle-class American necessarily needs to survive.
I got out of my car and went up to the door. Inside the cupcake shop, the air was the smell of vanilla extract, melted butter and nostalgia. It is a small and playful space that looks like it was once an ice cream parlor. The colors chocolate brown and Molly Ringwald pink permeate throughout the store, it's a baby nursery theme, and swirly font adorns the walls. The atmosphere makes me giddy and extremely hungry. The Cupcakery chain has locations in Las Vegas and Texas.
I made my way to the counter and stood in line to get my treats. I was standing behind a tall, skinny-faced, hug-a-dolphin type woman who was so thin she was almost invisible. She also had a kid on her arm. He was a cute snickerdoodle but acted like a little shit. Knocking on the furniture and kicking the counter. "I WANT MY CUPCAKE!" He screamed in a tone only reserved for cats in heat. I ignored his antics but stared at his mom with a look of annoyance. She looked back at me and mentally told me, "Yes, girl. Kids suck." I smiled and nodded in agreement. Then I went back to examining the cupcakes as they left the store.
I approached the checkout. "So, that kid did not need a cupcake. He needed a high-dose of Ritalin." "Word," a young, punk-rock, tan girl with a Twiggy short hair cut replied. She tinkered with the register as I was making last minute decisions on which cupcakes to order. "So, what can I get ya?" she asked. "I'll take a Tickle Me Pink, a Bugsy and a Southern Belle." (The pseudonyms crack me up.) "Want to try a grasshopper? It tastes just like a Thin Mint." The girl said. "No, thanks. I like my Thin Mints in cookie form. Call me old-fashioned." I replied. The treats were placed in a clear container with a Cupcakery sticker on the top. "See ya later, chicka," she chirped as I slipped out the front door.
I wasn't sure where to eat my cupcakes so I went inside a coffee shop for my cupcake fix. I ordered a cup of black coffee and prepared to consume the cakes.
Observations: These cupcakes are luxurious and ooze with color; they wouldn't be available pre-packed by Hostess at the Piggly Wiggly. The details are artful. Icing pearls. Piped flowers. Iridescent powder. Gum paste toppers. They look like they belong in the Pottery Barn Kids Cupcake set.
Tickle Me Pink: The signature cupcake of The Cupcakery. It is classic white cake topped with pink vanilla buttercream frosting. I removed the hand fan-pleated wrapper and took a bite. The taste is sugar explosion. The cake is moist and mild while the frosting is overpowering and chock-full of syrupy, liquid sugar. Perfect for kids or anyone with a sweet tooth the size of a Mons Meg, like me.
Bugsy: Young people never seem to appreciate carrot cake. I guess it's because the cake is always served at a crotchety grandparent shindig. But, for whatever reason, I was never turned off by the carrot-centric treat. The way I saw it, it was like getting two of the essential food groups in one dulcified morsel. Anyway, this cupcake is really good. Not as dense as a normal carrot cake; it is airy and light in spice. The cake is coated with thick, rich cream cheese frosting. Thumbs up!
Southern Belle: In case you can't tell by the name, this is a red velvet cupcake. At first glance, I'm not sure about it. Red velvet is normally dark; this one is more Strawberry Shortcake, the cartoon character. It's an impostor masquerading as the sanguine cupcake my grandmother served us on her aqua-colored, boomerang countertop! The taste is vanilla-y infused with red dye #40. But, the cream cheese frosting is still a creamy, topnotch splash of greatness.
If you want to make someone's (my) day, head over to the Cupcakery and pickup a couple of these gems.
(The pictures were borrowed from the website.)
(The pictures were borrowed from the website.)