{"id":1658,"date":"2006-05-31T05:29:00","date_gmt":"2006-05-31T05:29:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2006\/05\/31\/second-times-a-cupcake"},"modified":"2015-09-24T03:54:06","modified_gmt":"2015-09-24T03:54:06","slug":"second-times-a-cupcake","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2006\/05\/second-times-a-cupcake\/","title":{"rendered":"Second time’s a cupcake"},"content":{"rendered":"
If there\u2019s one flavor that I hate, it\u2019s the aftertaste of failure. Call me a perfectionist or a spoiled little snot: either is an apt description. When something doesn\u2019t go my way, I sulk. I\u2019m a master of the silent treatment. I can pout so hard that my lower lip sticks out a full inch. Worst of all, when said failure involves a chocolate malted cupcake, I\u2019ve been known to air my dirty disappointment in the most public of places: on the Internet, sneakily disguised as a bowl of lima beans<\/a>. Maybe it would be smarter to take up yoga or meditation, or to sign myself up for anger management classes, and maybe I will. Or maybe I\u2019ll just bake more cupcakes.<\/p>\n As the old saying goes, if at first you don\u2019t succeed, try, try another recipe.<\/p>\n <\/strong> But because I still wanted dessert, I began to slowly prepare myself for a second go-round. I did a little research, thumbed through a cookbook or two, and then I took down the trusty accordion file of recipes that sits atop my refrigerator. To start anew, I figured, sometimes a girl must retreat to familiar territory, so I pulled out an old, tried-and-true<\/a> recipe for chocolate cake, and I tried, tried again.<\/p>\n The cupcake itself, I decided, didn\u2019t need to contain malt; what I wanted was a good, stand-alone chocolate cake<\/strong>, something that needs no adornment. In the same way that a good ice cream sets the tone for a milkshake, this cake would be a solid base on which to build my malted flavor. From there, I could fuss with the frosting until I had something creamy, toasty, and tinted with cocoa, a flavor that tasted as though it could be slurped through a straw<\/strong>. And that<\/em>, dear reader, is success for you.<\/p>\n<\/a>
My first\u2014and failed\u2014attempt<\/a> came from the pages of Nigella Lawson\u2019s Feast<\/em>, but feast, I\u2019m afraid, it was not. I dutifully followed her recipe for a \u201cChocolate Malteser Cake,\u201d but the resulting offense tasted neither of chocolate nor of malt, and its crumb was a mousy brown, dull and rubbery. Before the cupcakes so much as saw my icing spatula, they were rerouted to the trashcan. Given my previous statements about Ms. Lawson<\/a>\u2014we\u2019re no longer on a first-name basis\u2014you can well understand my need to sulk.<\/p>\n<\/a>
With two types of chocolate and a half-cup of buttermilk, these cakes bake up to a pretty shade of brunette, with a rich, tender crumb that shines under the light. Capped with a lazy swirl of soft, malted frosting, it\u2019s like a milkshake, but with a more satisfying chew. <\/p>\n