I find in most normally functioning families, the members have a distinguishing role or legacy or skill of some kind.
Like, he's the smart one. Or, he's the religious one.
Or...she's the glue that helps the fam together. Or, she's the savvy one, so she's the Power of Attorney.
In my family, that system went something like this:
My dad was The Dad. Cantankerous, crotchety, and especially tight with daughters' curfew times. Also, not a fan of driving in Big Cities.
My mom was the long-suffering, patient, reserved one.
My brother was the baby, the one who got away with murder, the namesake, and also, Frosty Hoarder.
Me? My legacy? The Ruiner of Remote Controls. No lie. Although I've repressed the memories, my parents claim I destroyed at least two remotes in my tenure as Child Under The Roof. Remote #1: milk spillage; Remote #2: applesauce spillage.
So, now you see why my younger brother was the favorite.
Anyway, then I went off to college, got married, had kids, got a respectable job...I thought I'd put all that terrible, terrible destructive past behind me.
But...you all know the darkness that lurks deep in the heart (and DNA) of man. Just waiting patiently, biding its time...much like the Hulk's raging anger (but without the dangerous scientific alteration bit)...my predilection for gadget wreckage has resurfaced.
This week, I spilled coffee on my MacBook Pro. Thankfully, due to my quick-thinking and my husband's diligence, the damage was restricted to the top case (read: mostly the keyboard), but unfortunately, that danced to the tune of a couple hundred dollars and a two-day stay at the Genius Bar in the Apple Store.
And that, friends, is why I've not posted much in the last six days.
But, less time on the laptop means more time in the kitchen, right?
Here's what you're looking at.
Gin-and-Tonic cupcakes.
Yes.
You read that right.
I admit, I'm kind of a fan of adding alcohol to desserts. It seems so very French on one hand, and so very kitschy on the other. And I find I feel the same way about myself, some days.
Besides, these cupcakes have that Hulk thing going on too...a relatively respectable exterior with a dangerous secret that lies beneath.
Not that gin is anywhere on the same plane as superhuman strength and a proclivity for destruction (unless you drink too much gin, that is, then, yes).
There's gin in the cupcake batter (along with lime juice and zest). There's a gin glaze atop the cupcakes. And, there's also a gin buttercream piped on top.
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
HULK SMASH CUPCAKE. Into his mouth. That would be acceptable.
HULK SMASH CUPCAKE. Onto a remote control. That would not be acceptable.
We all have our crosses to bear.
Like, he's the smart one. Or, he's the religious one.
Or...she's the glue that helps the fam together. Or, she's the savvy one, so she's the Power of Attorney.
In my family, that system went something like this:
My dad was The Dad. Cantankerous, crotchety, and especially tight with daughters' curfew times. Also, not a fan of driving in Big Cities.
My mom was the long-suffering, patient, reserved one.
My brother was the baby, the one who got away with murder, the namesake, and also, Frosty Hoarder.
Me? My legacy? The Ruiner of Remote Controls. No lie. Although I've repressed the memories, my parents claim I destroyed at least two remotes in my tenure as Child Under The Roof. Remote #1: milk spillage; Remote #2: applesauce spillage.
So, now you see why my younger brother was the favorite.
Anyway, then I went off to college, got married, had kids, got a respectable job...I thought I'd put all that terrible, terrible destructive past behind me.
But...you all know the darkness that lurks deep in the heart (and DNA) of man. Just waiting patiently, biding its time...much like the Hulk's raging anger (but without the dangerous scientific alteration bit)...my predilection for gadget wreckage has resurfaced.
This week, I spilled coffee on my MacBook Pro. Thankfully, due to my quick-thinking and my husband's diligence, the damage was restricted to the top case (read: mostly the keyboard), but unfortunately, that danced to the tune of a couple hundred dollars and a two-day stay at the Genius Bar in the Apple Store.
And that, friends, is why I've not posted much in the last six days.
But, less time on the laptop means more time in the kitchen, right?
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| Hey, check out this (and other) recipe at www.buicupcakes.com |
Gin-and-Tonic cupcakes.
Yes.
You read that right.
I admit, I'm kind of a fan of adding alcohol to desserts. It seems so very French on one hand, and so very kitschy on the other. And I find I feel the same way about myself, some days.
Besides, these cupcakes have that Hulk thing going on too...a relatively respectable exterior with a dangerous secret that lies beneath.
Not that gin is anywhere on the same plane as superhuman strength and a proclivity for destruction (unless you drink too much gin, that is, then, yes).
There's gin in the cupcake batter (along with lime juice and zest). There's a gin glaze atop the cupcakes. And, there's also a gin buttercream piped on top.
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
HULK SMASH CUPCAKE. Into his mouth. That would be acceptable.
HULK SMASH CUPCAKE. Onto a remote control. That would not be acceptable.
We all have our crosses to bear.
I was "The Good One". This was sandwiched between two brothers - the older being "The Criminal One" and the younger being "The Criminal's Protege".
ReplyDeleteI wasn't particularly good, to be honest, but just nowhere near as bad as the others, so I'm sure my mother (The Scattered One) was grateful for it. My perennial father, on the other hand (The Absent One) would pop back in occasionally and berate me for not doing even better.
Other titles I've had growing up - The Nerd. The Quiet One. The Fat One, The Gullible (I prefer Trusting) One, The One Who Listened To Chris De Burgh Rather Than Pantera, The Computer Geek, and The One Who Vomited All Over Three Other Students In Home Economics.
It seems I am a man of many names, and some of the more recent ones I'll not repeat here.
I like the sound of your gin cupcakes. Just remember, when you drop one to have a child nearby that you can blame it on.