Exhausting. I am exhausted.
I baked 170 cupcakes over the weekend, for three separate events. That's a lot of baking for a girl, and only 30 of those went into the garbage! I think that's a pretty good track record.
Did I re-bake the 30 that went in the trash? I am considering it.
If you check out the previous post, you will see my first 48. They were a "big hit," and I am so relieved.
Saturday night, I made 30 pale pink cakes, topped with pretty pink and lilac sparkly fondant flowers. I will share them tomorrow.
Saturday morning, I made these:
A co-worker of mine threw a joint bridal shower for friends, soon to be called the "Pippens." It was a golf-theme shower, and she asked for cupcakes to match.
Yes, those flags are made out of fondant. Those teeny "P's" are made out of fondant. The golf balls are made (you guessed it) out of fondant. God help anyone who was around me Saturday morning, but those dimples in the golf balls- I made them with a (sanitized) bobby pin.
Yes, they look great- and I know that everyone enjoyed them- but stripped down, they are no more than vanilla cupcakes with (not a lot of) Swiss Meringue Buttercream. Did they taste good? I am sure they were fine, but wouldn't they be better stuffed with strawberries, cream cheese and graham cracker crumbs? I think so. Once I finished these, I wished I had piped on a swirl of buttercream, flattened it out, and then piped the grass on top. It would have been much more spectacular.
This was my first time using a grass tip, and I thought it was going to be much more difficult than it was. The entirely frustrating part of this endeavor (to my surprise) was the "P's." If I could personify the "P's," I would punch him in the throat.
What? I would. I don't care. I hate them. Mark my words: I will never make another "P" freehand with fondant ever again.
Never. 30 "P's," 1.5 hours. That is just ridiculous. Look at them, sitting there- mocking me.
Rage burns within me when I think of making 30 fondant noodles, and then in the hunched-over position, I tried to make a loop with them (as they were drying out). Transporting them onto the flag, as they lose their shape- working with two toothpicks to squeeze them together- ooh, the thought makes my blood boil. And as I worked on them, of course I tried to convince myself that their name didn't start with a "P" at all. I pictured getting there, and my sweet co-worker with her confused face would say, "Rachel, their last name is Bigboppalooba. Why did you make them "P's"? I saw myself throwing the cupcakes on the floor, and stomping on their shattered remains like a toddler.
Boy, that would feel so good.
Eventually, I did finish them. Their last name turned out to be "Pippen," and all was well- all but the death and destruction in my kitchen, which my hubs cleaned the following morning.
I have an insanely busy week. Lots and lots of hair, and another 125 cupcakes to make for a very special event. Bless my family. Bless my heart.
Oh, and while we're at it, bless your hearts.
Really, have a wonderful week.