I love doing this.

Cupcakes for my friend/co-worker's surprise baby shower. She's having a girl, but we were told she doesn't like pink, so I made them in yellow and turquoise. Later, we found out that this wasn't true. Oh well.

Yellow: P-Dub's chocolate sheet cake recipe translated to cupcakes.
Turquoise: Magnolia Bakery's vanilla cupcakes. The vanilla buttercream is also Magnolia's recipe.






I didn't "cater" the whole party this time, which allowed me to focus on cupcake cuteness. Hee.

Congrats, Martha!

Kiss My Bundt.

A couple weeks ago, I wrote about cupcakes.

Following that: pancakes.

And today: bundt cakes!


From left: Red velvet, cinnamon pecan, mocha chocolate, and lemon drop bundt cakes from Kiss My Bundt Bakery, located near the Beverly Center and the Farmer's Market on 3rd in L.A.

I suppose you could think of the bundt cake as a naked cupcake. There's no wrapper that gets in the way (aside from the one that provides a safety net for your crumbs as you take a bite).

Also, the bundt really does focus on the cake part -- not always so with the cupcake. And these bundts were everything a good cake should be: moist, dense, and rich.

My favorite was the one I chose: the mocha chocolate. It was just a damn good chocolate cake -- one that makes you feel comforted, safe, happy. I only wish there was just a leeettle more coffee flavor to it.

They let us have a sample of anything we wanted before we made our choices. It was very difficult to not be too greedy.

I'm looking at their menu of cake flavors -- some I'd especially like to try next time: mandarin chocolate, peach melva, peanut butter (I miss you!), pineapple upside-down, strawberry, and rum.

Hang on -- they have double-dipped raspberry kisses, too? (Description reads: Fresh raspberries double-dipped in white chocolate, milk chocolate, or dark chocolate.) How did I not see these??

Distracted by the fine bundts on display, I guess.

They come in various sizes: the "big ol'" bundt cake, which you can get whole or by the slice, as well as "baby" bundt cakes. But wait! They go even smaller...

The "mini" bundt cakes ($2.50 each) are the cutest size:

Aww. Precious.

* * *
Kiss My Bundt Bakery
8104 West 3rd Street
Los Angeles, CA 90048
323.655.0559

Oh, quick shout-out to my cousin/biggest fan/aspiring hand model, who directed us here. And who is "modeling" above.

Coco-pandan in cupcake form.

I made cupcake versions of pastry chef cousin Irene's coco-pandan cake the other day, and found my method so innovative, I had to share.


Actually, I lie. This is not innovation. It is a fluke.

Upon removal from the oven, I noticed the cakes started deflating rapidly. So much so that it had created quite a significant crater in the middle, in which I spooned the coconut-mochiko filling. Around the edges I piped vanilla whipped cream using a fluted tip.

Success! Yay.

Also, in the recipe for coco-pandan cake, I noted that it's not necessary to dissolve the mochiko in coconut juice. Correction: it is completely necessary, unless you want gritty filling.

Culinary art.

I'm back now (sad!). And because I need to catch up on sleep, I'm just going to give one more quick little highlight before I sum up the whole trip:

We spent the second half of our Saturday in Golden Gate Park where we attended San Francisco's Zine Fest, a conference for independent and underground publishing. I didn't know what 'zines' were before that day (short for 'fanzine,' Wikipedia defines them as a "small circulation, non-commercial publication of original text and images"), so it was a super neat experience in learning about something completely new and observing such diverse talent in art, storytelling, wit, humor and weirdness. The last part I say with admiration.

And wouldn't you know it, there were even some food-inspired items:


These deliciously adorable note cards are by Motormouthpress, which produces stationery rather than zines (it's sorta related, I guess). Click through their site to see more food-themed cuteness.

I should have gotten twenty more of these. Although, then I'd just have a huge stack of note cards that would sit on my desk forever, as they are almost too pretty to part with. I suppose I could send them to myself.

"Dearest Me,

I WANT TO EAT THESE CARDS.

Love, Me."

(And if you're wondering what's on the other side of the card, it has the chocolate petite cake in a gift box, with a speech bubble that says, "I miss you, too, Raspberry." AWW.)

Happy Independence Day: The red velvet strike ends!

In celebration of 4th of July, my cousin Cha and I made red velvet cupcakes. Or rather: "Blue(berry), White, and Red (Velvet)" cupcakes. Tee hee hee.


I had a much better, less redder experience with red velvet this time around (we only put half a teaspoon of red food gel into these babies).

My cousin preferred red sugar crystals for decorating:


"Aww, yours are cute. They're rustic and homey!"
"Hey, Irene always uses 'rustic' whenever she messes up on something."

"Rustic" or not, they were mighty tasty. And not frightening in the slightest. REJOICE!

Red velvet scandal.

The first time I had a red velvet cupcake, I wondered where the red color came from. Blood red strawberries? Overripe raspberries? I remember thinking. And then I looked up a recipe.

Oh, it's just food coloring. Lots and lots of red food coloring.

This didn't wig me out, oddly enough. I continued happily indulging in red velvet cupcakes whenever I got the chance. And finally, I decided to try making my own.

Now this recipe, by Elisa Strauss in The Confetti Cakes Cookbook, calls for a whopping 6 tablespoons of red food coloring for a 3-layer, 9-inch cake, equivalent to about 3 1/2 dozen cupcakes.

While I was collecting the ingredients, I pictured myself buying a bunch of those tiny little food coloring bottles that are readily available in any grocery store. Then it came to me -- a cake supply store, duh.

I arrived at Orange Novelty Cake Decorating and asked for a bottle of red food coloring.

"Do you want the airbrush food coloring or the gel paste?"
"Um.. what's best for red velvet cake?"
"Probably the gel paste, since it's more concentrated."
"Okay, I'll take that, then."

I should have also asked, "What is the gel paste to liquid food coloring ratio?"

(.... Yeah, I'm sure any pastry chef or red velvet cake veteran reading this can imagine what happened next.)

So later when I started making the cake batter, and when it came time to add the red, I thought, Okay, since the recipe calls for 6 tablespoons of liquid food coloring, 3 tablespoons of this stuff will probably be good.

I started with a single tablespoon. And then another.

Hmm. This batter doesn't look dark red enough.

I hate it when red velvet cupcakes are pink. They're not called PINK velvet! I like dark red velvet cupcakes. So I start to squirt more food gel in, a little at a time. When I decided to stop, I still wasn't satisfied with the color and felt that it was too light. But by that time, I was becoming disturbed at how much artificiality was going into these cupcakes.

(My pastry chef cousin later told me as I was telling her this story, "Yeah, the baked cake is always much darker than the batter." That would have been nice to know before I had started dumping gobs of red into my batter.)

Anyway, so I baked the cupcakes and was delighted to find that the cakes were moist, sweet, and a deep red color. It was one of the most delicious cakes I had ever made and tasted.

But as time went on, I became increasingly worrisome: What are the health disadvantages to artificial food dye?? My paranoia prevented me from thoroughly enjoying my cupcakes, which is very sad to me.

Later I found out that I used something like 6 times the amount of red food gel that I actually needed. Needless to say, I've had my fill of red velvet for probably the next year, and next time I will be making just "velvet cupcakes." Without the "red." Because the red is only used to dye the cake and not add to the quality of it, the cake will still be luscious and tasty.

But here's the now infamous recipe:

Red Velvet Cake, Elisa Strauss, The Confetti Cakes Cookbook
3 1/2 cups cake flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa (not Dutch-processed)
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
2 cups canola oil
2 1/4 cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs
6 tablespoons (or 3 ounces) LIQUID red food coloring OR start with 1 teaspoon red gel paste at a time
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 1/2 teaspoons white vinegar

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Whisk cake flour, cocoa and salt in a bowl.
2. Place oil and sugar in a bowl of an electric mixer and beat at medium speed until well-blended. Beat in eggs one at a time. With machine on low, very slowly add red food coloring. Add vanilla. Add flour mixture alternately with buttermilk in two patches. Scrape down bowl and beat just long enough to combine.
3. Place baking soda in a small dish, stir in vinegar and add to batter with machine running. Beat for 10 seconds.
4. Divide batter among 3 round 9-inch layer cake pans, or fill muffin tins 2/3 of the way full. Bake until a cake tester comes out clean, 40 to 45 minutes for layer cake or 12-15 minutes for cupcakes. Transfer to cooling rack and let cool completely before frosting.

After going on and on about the cake, I haven't even mentioned the icing. This delectable marry of whipped cream folded into mascarpone and cream cheese is what saved the day. Thanks to the New York Times (Feb. 14, 2007) for coming up with this killer combo. I recommend using an electric hand mixer to whip the cream, and a food processor to combine the other ingredients.

Red Velvet Cake Icing, John Doherty with John Harrisson, The Waldorf-Astoria Cookbook

2 cups heavy cream, cold
12 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
12 ounces mascarpone
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar, sifted

1. Softly whip cream by hand, in electric mixer or in food processor. Cover in bowl and refrigerate.
2. Blend cream cheese and mascarpone in food processor or electric mixer until smooth. Add vanilla, pulse briefly, and add confectioner's sugar. Blend well.
3. Transfer cream cheese mixture to bowl; fold in whipped cream. Refrigerate until needed.

And there she is. Naked, violated, and bleeding.


And yes. This baby stained. Everywhere.

* * *
Orange Novelty Cake Decorating
3625 W. Macarthur Blvd. #305
Santa Ana 92704
714.556.4661