Cupcakes

I unleashed my argument on why cupcakes are perhaps the best celebratory dessert this week in our neighborhood pub. This proved to be quite an inappropriate place to really prove my point as Rihanna’s Rude Boy blared and the collective conscious was set on finding the nearest fried chicken place. Still committed to preaching the benefits of the cupcake; I shall place my argument here, with delicious pictures.

FYI, I got on this topic after our friend Cat’s mother had a bakery in Leeds deliver her a dozen glittery and colorful cupcakes for her 21st “birtday”. The cupcake I chose (chocolate with chocolate frosting) really provided me a great deal of inspiration…and a sugar high.

1. Cupcakes are delicious and make you feel GREAT. This may seem obvious but you can’t exactly say the same for banana cream pie.

2. The ratio of cake to frosting is truly perfect. How many times do you get a slice of cake with the slightest slip of icing between layers and a thin amount on top (which all ends up sticking to the plate since the cake is laid sideways)? Cupcakes give you an almost equal proportion of cake to frosting, giving diversity to texture and flavor.

3. Cupcakes are the perfect portion of dessert. With cake you receive a slice and know there is more to be had. Cupcakes provide you with a sense of entirety and finality.

4. There is a greater flavor range in cupcakes because of their small size. Strawberry with lime frosting, Chai with cream cheese frosting, Pumpkin with almond frosting, Hazelnut coffee with a chocolate mousse frosting. Some bakers wouldn’t risk creating entire cakes out of these specific flavor combinations.

5. They are easy and fun to decorate. Really, a food for all ages.




6. They last longer than normal cake. So little of the cake is actually exposed to the drying elements of outside air so it can stay fresher for longer!

7. There are so many ways to eat them! Daintily with a fork? Frosting first? Cake first? Two bites? One humungous bite? The possibilities are endless!!

8. Cupcakes are mentioned in the Bible at least 15 times.*
*This is not true. Had Jesus known the divinity of cupcakes I’m sure he would have asked for it at his last dinner.

While my argument doesn’t exactly have the logical finesse of say Locke or Rousseau I think it pretty well sums up why cupcakes are ideal for celebratory occasions. To be fair cupcakes do have some downsides:

a. Cupcakes are not cheesecake. Cheesecake rocks.
b. Cupcakes are trendy and therefore expensive.

Now go eat a cupcake!




See down below for some amazing cupcake recipes from some chick named Ming!

Finals Frenzy?

I've never had so much time to study for finals in my life. I realize I probably shouldn't be complaining about this, but sometimes having an excess of free time leads to extreme abuses of time management. I've watched every single episode of Glee in one week. I've gone through 32 episodes of How I Met Your Mother in maybe 12 days? I've logged countless hours on StumbleUpon, seen every movie trailer released in the past two months, and could probably write an embarassing amount on the deeper psychological and political messages of Lady Gaga's Telephone music video. And I really have been studying everyday. I have three finals in the course of three weeks, plus a reading week (which I am in the middle of now). At Wisconsin and most public schools across the country, we have a reading day and one week to take at much as five finals. I'm used to tight study schedules where all you do is eat, breath, and think your study material. You cannot get into that groove for three weeks straight.

I'm flying home in exactly three weeks which I'm sure will fly by. Honestly, I'm pretty traveled out (and broke) so I doubt I'll be going on any great excursions again. I'm considering seeing the Lake District though...and I'd love to go back to Edinburgh. Never expected I'd connect with that city. I'm actually making it a goal of mine to never see London. The hussle and bussle doesn't interest me at all. And after seeing European cities like Rome, Florence, and Barcelona could it really even compare? Part of my avoidance is spite too. Everyone always asks me, "How's London?" so when I get back I'm sure it will be, "How was London?". I'd love to reply, "Actually I went to LEEDS and have never even been to London. There is a lot more to England than London". Anticipated response, "What's a Leeds?"

First meal wanted when I get back: cornbread drenched in maple syrup, brats grilled on the back deck, real non gag-inducing caesar salad and peach iced tea.

plague, pustules, pest-houses, popish plots....

This entire week has been filled with reading, researching, outlining, and a desperate attempt at writing. I have 2-2,000 word essays due Monday so needless to say, I've been drinking a lot of coffee and spending way too much time with early modern Europe. Monday, Wednesday, Friday I've spent with the plague (pustules, pest-houses and more) while Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday were spent with anti-Catholic propaganda and Popish plots. plague, pustules, pest-houses, propaganda, popish plots, pringles...so many p's. The Starbucks here give free refills on filter coffee. I'm pretty certain I'm the only one in this city who actually orders filter coffee so really, they are just cutting back on waste. I know, I go to Europe and end up going to Starbucks. I spent my most formative years in a Starbucks. Shoot me. Okay - I think that is the anti-Papist paranoia talking. It is very infectious...kind of like the plague. God.

I spent last weekend in Edinburgh and it was a city I could really see myself living in. Little did I know the majority of UK-ers, when polled, think the same thing. I am 99% sure that I climbed the same volcano as Ewan McGregoer. I won a dance battle against this strange, strange man in a Hangover shirt. And I sat where J.K Rowling wrote most of Sorcorer's Stone. You think I'm lucky now...just you wait.

I'm leaving on Thursday for this little town called NAPLES. Our plans go a little something like this - Luxurious Italian villa on the coast of Sorrento for 7 days, travel up the coast to Rome, Florence (wineries!), and CInque Terre. Go into the south of France, stay in Nice, visit Monaco (my favorite place on earth), perhaps stop in Aix. Train into Barcelona. And then fly back to Leeds for 20 euros. I will be broke after this trip. Memories over money, am I right?



The view from our patio. It's only Mount Vesuvius. No big deal.

Fortified

Whenever I happen to be in Europe I make a fort. It is a weird little correlation. The last time I made a fort was 3 years ago in my Parisian hotel room. That didn't go over too well with the maids. Today, I decided I ought to lock myself away to begin my research and essay prep for these two beasts due on the 15th. My cave was metaphorical at first. Then I found a spare bed sheet and my 6-year-old self, Natawee. After reading about anti-Catholic propaganda and the Popish plot for hours, I carefully constructed my new little study area. I'm pretty sure I put more thought into this construction than at any point in AP Physics. And that is the absolute truth.

I have to say, I am really proud of my fort. It is equipped with my laptop, wifi, water, candles (warning: underneath a bed sheet is probably the dumbest place to ever put a candle. But thrilling.) nutella, pillow, and books. What more could one need?

When you make a fort during the day you have to sleep in it at night, right? So that is what I'm about to do. After I finish blogging by candlelight and listening to some Yellow and Wonderwall set on repeat. I hope I get enough sleep though - it is going to take a lot of mental clarity and strength to block out Monty Python and the Holy Grail while I research the plague's effects on early modern English society tomorrow.

Sipping Joe from Cafe Gratitude

I am in a weird sort of mood and I have no idea why. Well, that's a lie. I have some idea. I woke up this morning and headed into the city centre. It is fairly warm today, fair weather that makes you sure spring will arrive shortly. I watched It's Complicated last night and grew insanely jealous of Meryl's character with her beautiful Californian home and bakery. So to treat myself I went to Cafe Nero and enjoyed a delicious double espresso (with two sugars and dash of cream...I'm not that hardcore anymore) and pain au chocolat. They advertise that the dough is shipped from France, so I was sold. I worked on my essay, arguing how and why Cold Mountain is appropriate for a historical film class. I had a really lovely morning, all to myself, and get to spend the evening chatting with my parents over skype.

Maybe it was my indulgent morning filled with caffeine and chocolate, or perhaps my following the horrible news of the devastating earthquake in Chile but I just feel waves of gratitude coming on. Gratitude for my safety, for my prosperity, for my potential, and for my situation. Thanksgiving cannot be the only day you look back on your life and realize how fucking lucky you are to have all that you have (it also shouldn't be the only day you have a three hour meal with your family). As a white, American female, I already hold an extremely privileged spot in the world. Worry as I do about going broke here, I know that my parents are capable of supporting me, monetarily but most importantly, emotionally. I have the opportunity to see so many things here. Hell, I'm going to fucking Italy to stay in a villa in less than a month. Like, how does that happen? I have so much to come back to. My family, a job, my sister's wedding, a new home in Madison shared with three amazing ladies. Not to mention a fridge constantly filled with food and free laundry. I just hope that I can remember this. Take a deep breath and put whatever shit-storm I get myself into in perspective.

One of my roommates here is from Santiago, Chile. I haven't seen her come out of her room yet. I hope with all my heart her family is safe and not one of the 1.5 million displaced.

This photo doesn't really pertain to what I've written. I just really like it. Maren - credit due to you!

This weekend I was supremely spoiled. After flying to Copenhagen I was greeted by my sister and future brother-in-law, Bjarke. A native of Copenhagen suburbs, Bjarke gave us a marvelous tour of the city. We saw Nyhavn, the original harbor lined with colorful restaurants and a historical home of Hans Christian Andersen. We visited the Queen's palace, saw the changing of the guard, and even got a glimpse of the Little Mermaid.

After our insiders tour of the city we got Danish-style hotdogs from a street vendor (very Anthony Bourdain) and stopped in a bakery. I went a little camera happy, I think I took like 30 pictures of all the pastries. I was really surprised by the variety and craftsmanship of the sweets. I had expected Danishes and Flulabullah (very mercilessly spelled) and got the shock of entering what could have been a bakery in central Paris. After sampling one too many treats, we went back to his charming little Danish town, 30 minutes away by train.




Can I also mention that at one point this day I was in a Danish bank drinking a cranberry cider? Seriously. You can drink anywhere in this country. No questions asked.

The next day I was treated to an amazing smorgasbord of Danish open-faced sandwiches, herring, schnapps, and aged cheese. We were at the most authentic Danish restaurant you could imagine - if No Reservations made a stop in Copenhagen they would have filmed here. We ate for 4 hours and felt so content after we left.



The rest of the weekend held a Carlsberg brewery tour (with 2 free drinks included), a visit to the bar Emily and Bjarke first met, and seeing an Irish band perform Bruce Springsteen and Oasis at The Dubliner. Cheesecake was consumed, a homemade pasta dinner shared, and new family bonded with.

Bringing the Jersey Shore to Leeds

On Saturday we brought the Jersey Shore to Leeds. We brought the oompa-loompa orange tanner, the Snooki hair poof, and fist-pumping straight down Otley Road. The sad thing was, I ended up looking like a typical club-going British girl. And I was trying to make myself look bad...

Like Halloween or Mifflin in Madison, an Otley run is a hedonistic tradition full of costumes (known here as 'fancy dress') and binge drinking. However, people go on these runs every single day. The basic rules are that you grab a group of trustworthy friends, dress in some crazy group costume that will prompt stares and drunken socialization, and hit 18 pubs along Otley Road. You typically start around 2pm and have twenty minutes to finish your pint (girls only need drink half pints) before shipping it off to the next location. I honestly don't know how people survive it.

Our group (a ragtag bunch of Sconnies, Minnesotans, and North Carolinians) decided to go as the crew from Jersey Shore and guido it up. Of course, no one in Britain knows what this TV show is nor understands the concept of a guido. Some of us put on fake accents to go with our tanner (mine morphing into more of a Jimmy Fallon-inspired Bostonian by the end of the night) and fist pumped whenever time appropriate. I don't wish to go into the exact details of the night. I wouldn't be the most reliable source for an accurate account. Really - how do you get through that?

I do remember meeting one local drunkard. His name was Frank and we was probably nearing seventy. I asked it he voted for Margaret Thatcher and we immediately shuffled out. We met two bunnies who were very enticed by our Snooki impersonations and I'm pretty sure we were racing a group of pirates throughout the night.

My words of advice if you attempt an 18 pub bar crawl, in February, and in heels? Down a tablespoon of butter and GODSPEED.