Notes from the Field: A goodbye.

"To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go."

- Mary Oliver

Where do you find hope? 

Four and a half years ago, I discovered a creative outlet to soothe a restless and creative mind. I had constant ideas dancing through my dreams and hands that needed to make. I was in between some things and uncertain of others, and so, "The Cupcaketologist" was born. 

At first the cupcakes were an inspired focus. They fed culinary dreams that were yearning to come true. They had me dancing around the kitchen like a fool, transforming everything from goat cheese and prosciutto to zucchini blossoms and foie gras into decadent delights. They were a hobby, they won awards, and at times, there were a source of income. My blog willingly took a backseat when I was too busy being happy and it gave me a place to explore heartache when I needed it most. These cupcakes helped me cope.

This blog has followed me from Philadelphia to Connecticut to Manhattan. I've baked in kitchens all over the world. Writing "The Cupcaketologist" even led me to create another blog, and in that little journal's short life, I met some of the most important people in my life history thus far: people who are important chapters, lifelines and best friends. I'm in awe over the wonders that I've seen, experienced and felt through it all. 

When I was nine, I was pure zen. I was even, balanced and the only kid on the swim team whose mother led her through finish line visualizations. At eighteen, I was bottled awareness. I was mature past my own good and above the teenage drama that plagued the high school halls. At twenty-one, I started searching, and a few years later, that search led me here: to a place where I could process the world around me by way of a focus and words.

The word "ethnography" quite literally means to “write (or represent) a culture.” My cupcakes were inspired by places I've traveled and the people I've met along the way. They were truly, in my mind, a series of case studies, whether the topics explored were foreign, brand new or completely personal. By way of a common medium, they attempted to make sense of the broad experiences one might uncover in a lifetime.

I've learned so much about the world in these four years. I've learned about myself in ways that I don't know I could have otherwise. 

I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I'm out of words that need to be shared in this space. I will be a baker, a writer and a dreamer for life, but it's time to say goodbye here. More importantly, it's time to discover whatever is next and just enjoy making, creating and being in the now. 

This blog gave me joy and opportunities. More so, it gave me hope. It helped me get lost, come full circle and discover myself again. I'm so thankful to have been able to share the stories of that journey with you. I'm speechless that you kept following after all of these years. Thank you for traveling along with me.

In peace, love and cupcakes, 

Jessica

Case Study 126: "The Bacon Caramel Pretzel Cupcake"

"Be soft. 

Do not let the world make you hard. 

Do not let pain make you hate. 

Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. 

Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree,
you still believe it to be a beautiful place."

- Kurt Vonnegut 

 

It's been "a week." Well, actually, it's been a few "weeks." Things have been a little stressful around here, so when I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, I wasn't too surprised. 

I had pretty much given myself a hall pass when suddenly I thought: "No." Why ruin a perfectly good Saturday? After all, I had places to go, and people to see later. Something had to be done. 

An hour, a trip to the store and some psychedelic 60's Peruvian and Turkish music (just go with it)later, I had an answer. 

Bacon. 

Well, bacon, chocolate, caramel and peanut butter, to be more precise. And a little dancing. 

I turned on aforementioned tunes and got cookin'. I whipped up the most perfectly light vanilla cupcakes, and as they cooled I melted semi-sweet chocolate chips. I laid out my pretzel flats, which were chosen for their ability to hold more things per square centimeter than the average tiny twist. And then I got to dipping. I dipped the pretzel in the chocolate and I rolled it in finely sliced pieces of crispy bacon. 

I did a little dance here, and I felt better already. I'm a firm believer that it's hard to stay mad when there's a dance party involved. I then turned to the buttercream, and seeing as my decision-making skills are off for the weekend, I went for peanut butter and caramel and vanilla, and I whipped it all up together.  

The end product? Vanilla cupcakes with peanut butter caramel buttercream, caramel drizzle and chocolate-bacon dipped pretzel flats on top. 

Coincidentally after that, my phone rang. Plans were set. The sky outside actually looked lighter. And before I hopped in the shower, I looked over my masterpieces again. All was good. I was ready to take the day. 

Notes from the Field: On family, and Vanilla Speculoos Pecan Praline and Bourbon Caramel Cupcakes

Yesterday I took a bus. 

Well, to be fair, I took a subway to the middle of Central Park South, with hot coffee and a black and white cookie in hand, and got on a bus to Staten Island. We zoomed down Broadway, past the Freedom Tower and Bay Ridge, and over the Verrazano Bridge to where my dad and uncle picked me up. We were there for Sunday dinner. It was 1pm. 

My father's parents are south for winter, but we got a little treat anyways: my grandfather and his siblings still meet for Sunday dinner each week. They are 80-96 years old and they are amazing.

Dinner was cooked by the girls, at nearly 94 and 96, but Uncle Eddie dropped off his lasagna before he left. He's the baby, and the one that came back from a trip to Italy wearing a basil leaf behind his ear. Uncle Freddy was a butcher, so he carved up the chicken, to go with the antipast, bresaola, the rigatoni and the greens and olive salad.

Dinnertime topics included getting a movie projector in 1936 and rent costs in the 30s ($25/month). They argued about the merits of having dishwashers, and Aunt Lucy proclaimed that she never wanted a machine to take away her beloved chore. My dad and uncle did the dishes. The men went to watch golf. I stayed to talk with the ladies in the kitchen, but out of the corner of my eye, I spotted by 61-year old father get on the ground, grab his 88-year old uncle's foot, place it on his knee and tie his shoe. 

And this is when I turned off my phone and really listened hard.

Aunt Ann talked about cruise ships and somehow we got into talking about deep sea fishing off Sheepshead Bay. I learned the best way to cut the head off big fish (with a saw) and escape seasickness (only drink bouillabaisse). Over Sambuca, cannoli and savoiardi, we talked about getting drunk on Courvoisier and where to buy low acid instant coffee for my grandfather. They talked about humility and each other. They talked about us. They talked about life.

These people have a longevity that amazes me, and yet, they also must have done something right. They've seen life in motion go from 8mm movie projectors to Blu-Ray discs. They've gone from sepia to black-and-white to color. They've been through more wars, births, deaths and changes of office then some of us may ever see. 

But, they are together. They know the importance of family, whatever "family" might mean, and constant support. They can hear strains in each other's voices. They took each other in during times of hardship and even today, when one is down, another stays with them for a week. They still eat together, and they are really together when they do it. They know what they have. They are reminders of a different time and place. 

So what does this have to do with vanilla cupcakes with speculoos pecan praline cream filling, bourbon caramel buttercream, and chocolate dipped waffle rolls on top? I suppose everything and nothing at all.

I always loved those articles about the people who forget to die or the island of lifelong happiness, but I have my own old person club right across the bridge. This is a lesson. This is why I am who I am today. These people are my living history; the best teachers I could have. I am very lucky.    

Notes from the Field: The Ring of Fire

"Hey June,

That's really nice June. 
You've got a way with words

 and a way with me as well.
 

The fire and excitement may be gone 

now that we don't go out there and sing them anymore, 

but the ring of fire still burns around you and I, 

keeping our love hotter than a pepper sprout.
 
Love, John"

- Johnny Cash

Hotter than a pepper sprout. Love is many splendored thing, in all of its varied dimensions, including these vanilla cupcakes filled with milk chocolate and toffee cream filling and topped with peanut butter buttercream and chocolate shavings. 

Here's wishing you a holiday of loving whoever you love hard, maybe even a little too hard, this Valentine's Day.    

Notes from the field: Apple Cake and the Greatest Man I Know

"I am not ashamed to say 

that no man I ever met was my father's equal,

 and I never loved any other man as much."

- Hedy Lamarr 

Happy happy birthday, to the greatest man I know.

Notes from the Field: The countdown is on...

"We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time."

- T.S. Eliot

 

As 2011 came to a close, I made a promise to myself that 2012 would be better. It was going to be my "Champagne Year," twelve months marked by growth, success and love to outdo the tough ones I had just been through. 2012 delivered.

It was a year of travel, on helicopters, in cars and on every train-line in the Northeast. It was a year of romance. New love and lost love, friend love, baby love and dozens of great Manhattan date stories. It was a year of joy. A year of wild Tuesday nights, 2AM skinny dipping, far too much champagne and a lot of best/worst decisions made. And most of all, it was a year of hope. A year of seeing hope in even the bleakest situations, finding hope in the simplest wonders of humanity and acknowledging how having even the littlest amount of faith can change the chemical reaction between your body and the world.

Sitting here on the last day of this year, I can't help but reflect on how just the smallest moments, like meeting a person or changing your view of a situation, can change your life forever. I'm amazed at how virtues like patience and acceptance can completely change the impact of experience in your life. And most of all, I marvel at how allowing yourself to explore people and places for the sake of exploring - with nothing to lose, except maybe yourself for a bit if you're lucky - can bring you back to what you knew all along about yourself.

Tonight I'll celebrate with a few of my dearest, a lot of bubbles and good vanilla cupcakes with gold painted champagne buttercream. 2012 may be coming to a close, but as we know, every end is in fact another good opportunity to begin. And so I raise a toast to the beauty and good fortune that this year has brought me, and look forward to much much more champagne in 2013.   

Case Study 121: "The Bourbon Salted Caramel Pumpkin Cupcake"

Are you feeling what I'm feeling? 

It's the end of November, the early frost is setting in and we've all reached the same point: pumpkin fatigue.

And from reading the title above, I know what you guys are thinking. Holy bananas,this chick isn't going to whip up another pumpkin cupcake, is she?  

Well, I am. 

But wait, here's the thing. This is the end... the very very end(until 2013). I promise. There will be no more pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, or gold-flecked caramel figs. You see, by the time we reach Friday, when we're all full from that big day where we eat all of the things, we'll have already started to be served new stuff like peppermint, Christmas carols and dreams of potato latkes with wings(personal dreams, but...as you were).

So let's think of this as "one last hurrah." One last fling before the ringing Hershey Kiss commercials hit TV and that baby polar bear slides down a glacier and somehow finds a bottle of Coca-Cola.

I think pumpkin cupcakes topped with bourbon salted caramel buttercream and spiced shortbread leaves will do the trick, don't you?

Good. So here's what we're going to do. First we'll whip up the fluffiest pumpkin cupcakes in all of the lands. I'm going to suggest you get all crazy and use "organic" pumpkin if going the canned route here because the consistency is perfect for creating said fluff. 

Then, while the cupcakes cool, get down and dirty with some caramel sauce. This isn't your mother's best friend from high school's mom's caramel sauce. No, this one has salt. And bourbon. I used this recipe. Now tread lightly here. If you put a spoon from the cooking bourbon salted caramel into your mouth, you will get burned. 

When the caramel has cooled COMPLETELY, make your frosting using a basic vanilla frosting recipe. But instead of using milk and vanilla, use the bourbon salted caramel. See where I'm going here? Use your eyes and watch the consistency.

We've reached the grand finale. Time to frost those cupcakes! Are you ready? Let's go. 

Pipe or schmear your bourbon salted caramel buttercream onto your cupcakes and top with something festive. It's Thanksgiving, which stands for abundance and overload and thankfulness of things, so this could be sprinkles, some form of cornucopia tchotchke or my choice, spiced shortbread leaves (recipe here).

We're done! One last hurrah of Pumpkin Cupcakes. See, that was easy. 

Now go forth and eat! 

Notes from the Field: The Classic Birthday Cupcake

It's no surprise that I love me a good birthday celebration.

I'm all about the birthday signs, the party hats and the crazy nights out. But I reserve a special kind of celebration for my nearest and dearest people. 

It seems like the older I get, the more I value my truest friends. And if the past weeks of chaos in the northeast have taught us anything, it's that these kinds of connections are to be held very dear. 

I'm talking about the kind of friends that don't play games. They are honest, true and direct. They are without expectations and are full of respect. When you meet people like this, you know that you're kindred spirits. Whether introduced by fate, friends or virtual connection. The ones that know your secrets, your passions and your values just by being in your life. And so, these are the people that you look forward to celebrating most.

I think vanilla bean cupcakes with double vanilla buttercream and rainbow sprinkles do it best.

Now, it's not typical that I share my recipes, but I do believe that every baker should have a good classic birthday cake recipe on hand for celebrations such as these. So after the jump, you can find mine.

And so, happy, happy birthday to my sweet and true friend, Silvie. Here's wishing you a new year filled with happiness, love, fortune, wild adventures and much much more. 

Notes from the Field: On turning 28...

Tuesday is my twenty-eighth birthday.   

 

I was going to whip up a nice long post commemorating the end of my twenty-seventh year. It would have been a chronicle of love. It would have talked about going all in, seeing things through and watching hard work pay off. It would have drawn a picture of four seasons in Central Park, helicopter rides to work and getting windblown on the northern California coast. It would have thrown in jokes about crying on New York City subways, a slew of hilarious dates and a one-toothed dog named Ferdinand. It would have told the story of new life, a wild summer and one thousand champagne cocktails. 

 

But instead, I'll tell you about Saturday night, when we gathered around a long harvest table in a tiny uptown pub bathed in candlelight and laughter. Thanks to the storm, it was intimate. There were a few hurricane refugees and the ones who could make the trek uptown. There was flowing champagne, sparkler fires and tiny crown fascinators atop our heads. There was a bar takeover, and we played musical chairs, had a soul shakedown and convinced complete stranger friends to join us for a birthday limbo. It was perfect. 

 

And then there were these: pumpkin cupcakes topped with vanilla buttercream, fresh figs and a gold-flecked caramel drizzle. They were shared with family, friends, random bystanders and a few of our favorite British pub boys in the world. They were divine.

When I think of what really makes a year, I am reminded that it's what we learn from the ups and downs, the experiences, the trials and those moments that we find completeness. Saturday night was a reminder that I so have what I need and more. I'm overwhelmed at what twenty-seven brought. It was everything I could have never even dreamed of, and one hell of a trip around the sun. I can't wait to see how my new year unfolds.  

Case Study 120: "The Ginger Pear Cupcake"

Today is for reunions and it looks like the weather is going to play along.

Days like this always remind me of fall in Bologna. The gray sky, the smell of the coming November rain and the first sights of marzipan in the pasticerria windows.

It reminds me of how we roused late and brewed caffe in our tiny perk before indulging in biscuits and Nutella from the jar. How the light would peek around the corners of the narrow streets, and in the early morning the grates would go up at the Mercato delle Erbe as the statue of Ugo Bassi pointed ahead.  

 

It makes me remember our homemade haircuts and long lasagna lunches. Parties at the house, marked by Nina Simone and hash cigarettes. The long walks up the six hundred and sixty-six portici that led to the sanctuary on the hill. And most of all, it brings memories of long afternoons at Il Cortile Cafe, where the day faded to night and we started every evening with prosecco by candlelight and listening to Django Reinhardt covers played live.
  

And so it's nothing but fitting that on a gray late October day, I'll reunite with my best Bologna people right here in New York. 

Back then we ate. And we ate. And we ate. For fun, for sustenance and really for no reason at all. We always went back for seconds, we never did it with shame. All of our senses and our gastronomical dreams were awakened and brought to life. And so, there's no way in hell that I would welcome friends to America empty-handed without the best that fall could offer. 

Fresh ginger and molasses cupcakes with vanilla-pear buttercream and dark chocolate candied ginger shavings on top. Yes, I think that will do. 

Today we'll stroll arm and arm like we used to. We'll take in an early aperitivi in a dim light cafe before the rest of the working world joins in. We'll drink prosecco, chats about boys and share memories about the dear old days of our adventures abroad nearly eight years ago. And as true friendship always goes, nothing, nothing, will have changed at all.

Notes from the Field: An anniversary.

 

Four years ago, I started a blog. 

I'm not quite sure what drove me to this madness. Perhaps it was because I was twenty-three, over the top and running with a pack of international Philadelphia foodies that were 8-15 years older than myself. Or maybe it was because I needed a place to diary my travels as a young anthropology major working in the insurance industry and trying to make sense of it all. Journals were never my strong suit, so maybe this could work. Regardless of the reason, "The Cupcaketologist" came to existence in October of 2008. 

It started fast, and I had plenty of tasters. My first posts were lofty. I baked chocolate salted caramel cupcakes, inspired by some odd Marcello Mastroianni dreams. My chef friend approved, but advised that next time I should use Maldon. 

Next came one of my signature and most beloved cupcakes ever made: honey and fig cake topped with goat cheese buttercream and a carmelized fig.  

  La Femme Mediterranenne

  
Now I had everyone's attention. I even created a logo (by hand,using old recipe books that I folded, glued, scanned, and inserted into the blog).

I did bacon before bacon was cool.

 The Heartattack 

I concocted disastrous malted egg cupcakes after a rough day of work and made the epitome of my confectionary dreams come true: the foie gras cupcakes that had me dancing around my kitchen like a fool.

 

The Dauphin 

I featured pets.

 The Peach Pit 

I chronicled my travel diaries through cupcakes. From Newport to Austria, England, France and to Italy more than anyone could even count.

The Cliffwalk 

 The Redheaded Sicilian 

The Bourbon Hot Chocolate 

I baked my way through birthdays, breakups, and more than one career change.

 The Roars

Tender Heart Cupcakes 

Twenty-Seventh Birthday Cupcakes 

I made a lot of cupcakes inspired by New York. From Woody Allen's New York...

The Big Apple Cupcakes  

To the architecture of New York (I was reaching here)...

The Artful Pecan Cupcakes 

To a recent spin around Central Park in the fall.

The Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookie Cupcakes

My cupcakes won awards, raised money, and were commissioned for parties, companies and gifts. 

Prizewinning Pumpkin Cupcakes 

 The Long Distance Love 

The Candyshop Quartet 

The Schott Trio

It's funny to think of blogging today and what it was back then. Now people do it for money. They do it for fame. They publish books from their blogs and they travel around the world as marketers for brands. 

I'm not sure that this will ever be like that for me. My blog has introduced me to a lifetime of experiences, and I think those are things more valuable than anything easy to spend. It's opened doors to friends, to conversations and to a whole side of myself that sees baking as a therapy, a passion and an art. A side that bakes to soothe, to make sense of my crazy imagination, to feed my friends and to translate experiences from my past and present into something tangible and good. I also did it for the writing.

This blog has followed me from a tiny Naudain Street galley to my Wall St. apartment with a dishwasher (!!). From kitchens in France and the South Coast of England to nearly every Philadelphia oven I could find. These are the moments, the times and the places that in some wild, whimsical and very strange ways have helped define life in my 20s.

Thank you for being part of my journey so far.