My cupcake obsession began three years ago when my freshman floor buddies left a perfectly wrapped pink and black box sitting suggestively on my desk.
“What is that?” I pondered, staring bewilderedly at the perfectly cylindrical cakes wrapped in gleaming silver tinfoil with illustrious green polka dot designs.
“Georgetown cupcakes,” they responded nonchalantly.
On my 19th birthday, I learned sheer, dazzling perfection had an 18 letter, two-word name. To this day, I believe that cupcakes are the best gift a GW student can give or get as a springtime slump pick-me-up.
To be clear, I am a Chicago girl and a true Chicago foodie. I like big, juicy red-hot hot dogs on a grilled sesame bun, with as much relish schmutz, piping hot spicy mustard and grilled onions as possible. I think the only real pizza resembles a deep pie with a magical concoction of Wisconsin cheese and an obsessive amount of chunky tomato goo from Lou Malnati’s Pizzeria. I take my Blackhawks hockey, Cubbies season tickets and Bloomingdales’ sample sales very seriously, but as a budding Washingtonian, cupcakes are quickly becoming the newest object of my desire.
Since my first cupcake encounter, I’ve been on something of a cupcake crusade. Some friends call it an obsession. Others a waste of time. On top of interning at different public relations firms and attempting to navigate the complicated, more-mystifying-than-Charlie-Sheen’s-Twitter world of GW bureaucracy, finding the ultimate, mind-blowing D.C. cupcake with the perfect ratio of fancy shmancy preservative-packed icing to perfectly placed picturesque sprinkles has become one of my favorite post-curricular activities.
Today, however, I am faced with the fact that one of student life’s most delectable delights is in peril. We are losing sight of one of the simplest joys a D.C. student has. In short, G-Dub, we are failing miserably at giving ourselves what we deserve. Damn it.
We are officially in that post-spring break slumber, which makes every vapid blue book and red pen mark feel like a personal assault on our social life, yet we refuse to give ourselves a calorie-fueled jolt of joy. While we’ve heard for years that an apple a day keeps the doctor away, any Washingtonian worth his weight in unused SmartTrip dollars knows that a cupcake a day keeps the therapist at bay. Which is why, in loving the memory of sneaking a finger-lickin’ good taste of the Toy Story-themed ice cream cake at Chuck E. Cheese birthday parties, and the memory of having not so tactfully indulged in a Chunky Monkey vs. Cherry Garcia Ben and Jerry’s pint-off, I beg my fellow Colonials to let a little cupcake-y goodness back into their lives.
In the quiet before the storm that is the month before finals where Gelman study rooms seem suspiciously empty, and 4-RIDE wait times are unequivocally short, a little gift to yourself or a friend is in order as a small favor and proof of assurance of the high summer times to come. Whether it be a whimsical brown box from Baked & Wired, an oh-so-carefully poised chocolate cupcake with whipped banana icing from local celeb Georgetown Cupcake, or an adventurous foray from the norm to the new-kid-on-the-block bakery, Sprinkles Cupcakes, we need to get through these next few weeks. Throw on your big girl (or boy) pants and get to business. We’ll get by with a little help from the charmingly quaint delightfulness of the perfect D.C. cupcake.
This article appeared in the April 11, 2011 issue of the Hatchet.