I have been always been a fan of cupcakes.Baked to perfection in their tiny grease proof paper cups they have formed An integral part of my childhood.Any celebration or occasion was always infused with a cupcake.It was a luxury back then given that access to those specialised shops that served were limited and Internet had not penetrated into the market and available like today.
I always fancied cupcake from a specific shop en route my school.Paddling back on the rutted terrain on my rusty bicycle,I would eagerly wait for the corner this pastry shop was located.
It was a tiny wonderland ,smelled heavenly with the aroma of icing and melted butter.Cakes of every hue lay flaunting their prettiness in clear glass shelves.The ship adopted an old archaic style with pastel paint and worn out paintings in faded letters.They also served coffee on some days with the aroma of the fresh brew more often than not tickling my nostrils and making me drool at the thought of a large cup of coffee with a sliver of a cream filled cupcake.That was my ultimate dream.To sit by the glass and read a book with poise while the minions of this pastry dreamland hovered around me asking if I was comfortable or needed more coffee.
Of course the balloon of dreams had burst given that I was a student with no means to pay for the expensive date I planned for myself.Not to mention that this tiny shop was a misfit in our small town although tourists thronged the place. Occasionally a local would visit for a tiny sliver pouring down a shore of coins.Such was the heavy price of taste and good looks.
My parents did try to deceive me by choosing the cheaper counterparts of shelves.Packed and sealed for days,with a decent price the taste I was sure was nothing compared to what they offered.It had to fragrance,the cream was often stuck to the wrapper and more often than not was hard and flaky,not smooth or buttery like I had seen in the pastry shop.I was grateful that my parents were doing their best,however the nagging feeling refused to go away.I had to have that dream of mine fulfilled.Just one evening.I prayed fervently that by some miracle I could step inside with pride as a customers .Just once.
Every time I thought about it,the images of the supermarket substitute floated into my head and guilt crept in drowning everything in the process.Cycling back from school was an excruciating exercise.The aroma was inviting and so were the colours on the cupcakes .
It became an obsession.Guilt on one side was killing me while the cupcakes provoked from pan other.I looked like a guy possessed by a parasite.It was eating me from the inside.I dreamt cupcakes.My mother who noticed my lack of interest and general disquietude was fraught with worry.She tried to understand my naive desire.She couldn’t comprehend why her teenage daughter was obsessed with something so trivial.She tried to dissuade me by downplaying the taste.Qhen that didn’t work,it was about the additives they used to achieve the vivid colours and exotic shapes.When that too failed,she spoke of exorbitant prices and deceptive appearances.When nothing worked,she decide to take matters into her own hands.She coaxed me by promising that I would get what I wanted.All she asked in exchange was some time to execute her plan .I gladly agreed.A part of me was antsy,but most part was eager anticipation.
A few days later my mother emerged with a paper.It had the magic ingredients and the method of preparation.She looked jubilant.I smiled at her eagerness and let her work her magic.
I heard the clutter of vessels,the hiss of the gas stove and vigorous scrubbing against our tiny kitchen wall. An hour later she emerged triumphant with a plate of ball sized cake like lumps with coloured candy sticking out of them.I was nervous.This looked nothing like what I had made up in my head.She looked at me expectantly.I took a bite.This was idly batter mildly steamed and sprinkled with some vegetables.She had planted the candy to give the appearance I believed was integral to the cupcake.It was no cupcake that I had expected.I smiled at my mother through mouthfuls of her gourmet dish.My heart was filled with happiness I never knew that existed.My mother had conjured the perfect recipe for happiness.She had showed me that food is beyond taste and appearance.It was about taking the effort for your loved one and bringing that smile even if it meant experimenting in the kitchen,burning a few fingers.It all matters what you do to put food on your loved ones plate.
That day the definition of a cupcake changed in my vocabulary.It is never colourful or perfectly baked in tiny cups looking pretty in pastel.It is my mother’s version.Cooked to perfection by love alone.
I always fancied cupcake from a specific shop en route my school.Paddling back on the rutted terrain on my rusty bicycle,I would eagerly wait for the corner this pastry shop was located.
It was a tiny wonderland ,smelled heavenly with the aroma of icing and melted butter.Cakes of every hue lay flaunting their prettiness in clear glass shelves.The ship adopted an old archaic style with pastel paint and worn out paintings in faded letters.They also served coffee on some days with the aroma of the fresh brew more often than not tickling my nostrils and making me drool at the thought of a large cup of coffee with a sliver of a cream filled cupcake.That was my ultimate dream.To sit by the glass and read a book with poise while the minions of this pastry dreamland hovered around me asking if I was comfortable or needed more coffee.
Of course the balloon of dreams had burst given that I was a student with no means to pay for the expensive date I planned for myself.Not to mention that this tiny shop was a misfit in our small town although tourists thronged the place. Occasionally a local would visit for a tiny sliver pouring down a shore of coins.Such was the heavy price of taste and good looks.
My parents did try to deceive me by choosing the cheaper counterparts of shelves.Packed and sealed for days,with a decent price the taste I was sure was nothing compared to what they offered.It had to fragrance,the cream was often stuck to the wrapper and more often than not was hard and flaky,not smooth or buttery like I had seen in the pastry shop.I was grateful that my parents were doing their best,however the nagging feeling refused to go away.I had to have that dream of mine fulfilled.Just one evening.I prayed fervently that by some miracle I could step inside with pride as a customers .Just once.
Every time I thought about it,the images of the supermarket substitute floated into my head and guilt crept in drowning everything in the process.Cycling back from school was an excruciating exercise.The aroma was inviting and so were the colours on the cupcakes .
It became an obsession.Guilt on one side was killing me while the cupcakes provoked from pan other.I looked like a guy possessed by a parasite.It was eating me from the inside.I dreamt cupcakes.My mother who noticed my lack of interest and general disquietude was fraught with worry.She tried to understand my naive desire.She couldn’t comprehend why her teenage daughter was obsessed with something so trivial.She tried to dissuade me by downplaying the taste.Qhen that didn’t work,it was about the additives they used to achieve the vivid colours and exotic shapes.When that too failed,she spoke of exorbitant prices and deceptive appearances.When nothing worked,she decide to take matters into her own hands.She coaxed me by promising that I would get what I wanted.All she asked in exchange was some time to execute her plan .I gladly agreed.A part of me was antsy,but most part was eager anticipation.
A few days later my mother emerged with a paper.It had the magic ingredients and the method of preparation.She looked jubilant.I smiled at her eagerness and let her work her magic.
I heard the clutter of vessels,the hiss of the gas stove and vigorous scrubbing against our tiny kitchen wall. An hour later she emerged triumphant with a plate of ball sized cake like lumps with coloured candy sticking out of them.I was nervous.This looked nothing like what I had made up in my head.She looked at me expectantly.I took a bite.This was idly batter mildly steamed and sprinkled with some vegetables.She had planted the candy to give the appearance I believed was integral to the cupcake.It was no cupcake that I had expected.I smiled at my mother through mouthfuls of her gourmet dish.My heart was filled with happiness I never knew that existed.My mother had conjured the perfect recipe for happiness.She had showed me that food is beyond taste and appearance.It was about taking the effort for your loved one and bringing that smile even if it meant experimenting in the kitchen,burning a few fingers.It all matters what you do to put food on your loved ones plate.
That day the definition of a cupcake changed in my vocabulary.It is never colourful or perfectly baked in tiny cups looking pretty in pastel.It is my mother’s version.Cooked to perfection by love alone.
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