Cheesecake-Filled Chocolate Cupcakes w/Coffee Cinnamon Frosting

It’s still Thursday already Friday somewhere in the world! Thank God.

I may or may not have been blasting some Rebecca Black as I started a new page for this post.

One of the best parts of having an entire two-room bedroom apartment to yourself is that anything goes the moment your pinky toe crosses that blessed threshold.

Rocking out to One Direction and Carly Rae Jepsen into the weest of the wee hours? Of course.

Staying up all night at Disney movie marathon sleepovers that would make fifth-grade girls emerald with envy? Uh, yeah.

Dunking your entire hand into the bowl of cake batter instead of reaching for a mixing spoon because it’s in a drawer that’s ten whole feet away from you? Now we’re talking, my friend.

Lounging on your couch like a boss on a Thursday night in nothing but what your momma gave you and with a glass of pinot noir in your well-manicured hand?

Okay, I haven’t tried that last one. Yet. Apparently maintenance has the key to every apartment in this building, meaning they are allowed to come in without so much as a “hello resident-on-whose-territory-we-are-totally-intruding, you should really put your fig leaves over whatever you don’t want exposed to these eyes.”

Of course, by the time I’m finished with this kamikaze quarter of teaching, coursework, and having a social life the size of a pea, I may just throw in (or rather, away) the towel, grab my fig leaves, and start lounging to my heart’s content. With my pinot noir. For which I will accordingly acquire a refined taste that I currently don’t possess.

As with most things that don’t involve legal persecution or intense self-reevaluation of my worth as a human being, I grossly exaggerate here. My social life has actually been moving along quite swimmingly as of late, thank you very much.

I can’t go into any details about it, though

They might be watching reading.

By “they,” I mean the incredibly attractive young men working as incredibly successful entrepreneurs at an incredibly well-established corporation that still manages to hang onto its good ol’ homey American values.

You know, the ones currently residing in…my head.

Or Storybrook, to be more precise.

Yeah, I’ve started watching Once Upon a Time.

It kind of sucks…

…that my life has been summarily sucked up by it.

Ha.

You know what else sucks?

Not these cupcakes.

We whipped up a batch of these for one of the guys in our department celebrating his birthday this week. If you like a) the idea of a steaming mug of hot chocolate dipped into your morning wake-up call with a hint of autumnal flair, or b) being awesome, you need to try these cupcakes.

(These filled cupcakes were made for Julie’s baking challenge over at Willow Bird Baking–she’s a fantastic gal, so this is something else you should definitely check out if you like, again, being awesome.)

Cheesecake-Filled Chocolate Cupcakes w/Coffee Cinnamon Frosting

Yield: 15 cupcakes

Cupcake recipe adapted from Allrecipes

Self-filled cupcake ingredients:

• 1  cup boiling water
• 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1 1/3 cups and 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup butter, softened
• 1 cup and 2 tablespoons white sugar
• 2 eggs
• 3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

• 4 oz. cream cheese, softened
• 3 tablespoons white sugar
• 1 egg
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. In a medium bowl, pour hot water over cocoa and whisk until smooth. Allow to cool.
2. In a large bowl, cream together butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a time, then add vanilla. In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt, then add to wet ingredients alternately with cooled cocoa liquid. Mix until all ingredients are all just incorporated and smooth; your mixture will be relatively thin, and this is perfect!
3. To make cheesecake mix: In a medium bowl, beat cream cheese and sugar until creamy and smooth. Add egg, vanilla, and cinnamon; mix until well-incorporated. Set aside.
4. Place cupcake liners in a muffin tin and fill each liner about 1/3 of the way with batter. Carefully pour a small teaspoonful of cheesecake batter in (recipe below). Pour additional cupcake batter on top until the liner is 2/3 full; the easiest way to make sure your cheesecake batter doesn’t leak is if you pour the cupcake batter over it in one smooth sweep. (A slow pour will give the cheesecake time to ooze outwards.) Bake in preheated oven for 14-17 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in comes out clean. Allow to cool before frosting with coffee cinnamon frosting.

Ingredients for Cinnamon Coffee Frosting:

• 2 1/2 cups powdered sugar
• 2-3 tablespoons brewed coffee, cooled
• 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 1 tablespoon instant ground coffee, crushed into fine powder (optional)

Directions:

1. In a medium bowl, combine powdered sugar, 1 tablespoon coffee, and cinnamon. Mix together, then add additional coffee as necessary to thin out your frosting and reach desired consistency. (Adding the crushed instant ground coffee adds additional coffee flavor without thinning out your frosting too much. Add more to taste if you like!)

Note: If you want to add a nice chocolate drizzle to your cupcakes, simply melt 1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate with 1 tablespoon butter on the stovetop on medium-low heat. Make sure you watch your chocolate carefully and stir frequently to keep it from burning!

Individual Kahlua Chocolate Cakes

There are two types of parents in this world.

There are parents like my roommate’s. When asked what their daughter does as an English grad student (she’s in the same program as me), they happily expound on the importance of her literary choices and defend her to the core from the most cynical attackers.

And then there are my parents.

Oh, yes. My parents are absolute gems.

They’re what I call type B parents.

B as in “Bahahaha…I have no idea in holy tarnations what my daughter does. Why don’t you ask her? Then tell me when you find out. English lit-er-what, what’s that?” (That’s my dad.)

Or B as in “Baking–why do you do that? And when did you get so fat? Here, eat more.” (That’s my mom.)

Okay, I’m partly kidding. I love my parents more than I love a great jello cheesecake (which is saying a lot). They’re possibly the funniest, most loving people in the world.

But–and this is the other big B–they do have their share of slightly sardonic parenting moments. And when I say “share,” I mean a whole whopping whipped cream-sized dollop of them.

How many of your parents proudly tell their coworkers or friends that their children bake? I know you’re out there. All I have to say is…

Boy, you lucky bugs! Are any of them looking for surrogate children? Because I volunteer! At least for the confidence boosting part.

The biggest example of this parental cynicism at work is when it comes to my baking. My mom absolutely swears to everyone and anyone that she will not eat anything I’ve made. She says this in the same voice that uses when I used to bring home A exams from school.

“A! What happened to A+? HA HA HA!”

When applied to my baking:

“No no no, my daughter made it, yeah?–I won’t touch that! HA HA HA!”

Yeah, real cute, my parents. 

Of course, they only do it because it amuses them to think that they’re being the stereotypical tough love parents that you see, like, everywhere in the media these days (as in my favorite video of all time–my parents swear they don’t do this stuff, but they were also cracking up like crazy). For that, I forgive the regular references to the number of times I used to botch microwaveable frozen dinners.

When I make something–like this Kahlua chocolate cake for my mom’s company picnic–it becomes something like part of a long-running joke between us. Well, them.

Mom: Our daughter made what today?

Dad: Kahlua…chocolate…cake. Oh yes. You shouldn’t eat it. Terrible.

Mom: Terrrr-ible?

Dad: Oh yes. (Takes a giant bite.) None for you. Shouldn’t eat it. I’ll eat it.

Mom: Oh, if it’s terrible, I’ll eat it then.

Nothing like an argument about how terrible the food you’ve made is to boost your confidence, right?

This is why I need the Parental Comments Interpretation System. This is a personalized coping scale that helps me figure out what in holy tarnations my parents are on about.

What they say: “Aiyah, in the kitchen again today? Counters so dirty.”

What they really mean: “You’ve been baking. Well, where’s my sample?”

What they say: “Ehhh, too sweet” or “Ehhh, not sweet enough.”

What they really mean: “This sucks. Make something I like.”

What they say: “Ehhh.”

What they really mean: “Yum. Mine.”

What they say: “I want to make my coworker something soon so I can thank her. What are you doing tomorrow?”

What they really mean: “So you’re canceling your plans so you can bake something for my coworker tomorrow, right?”

What they say: “Oh, my coworker doesn’t like chocolate desserts.”

What they really mean: “I don’t like chocolate desserts. Make something else.”

…And this is why I love my parents.

They give me so darn much stuff to blog about.

Individual Chocolate Kahlua Cakes

Adapted from Allrecipes Dark Chocolate Cake Recipe

Ingredients:

Yield: 12 cakes

• 1 cup Kahlua or any coffee-flavored liqueur
• 1/2 cocoa powder
• 1/2 cup butter, softened
• 2 eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 cup and 2 tablespoons white sugar
• 1 1/3 cup and 1 tablespoon flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• Glaze:
• 1 cup semisweet chocolate chips
• 4 tablespoons butter
• 1/3 to 1/2 cup Kahlua
• 1/3 to 1/2 cup powdered sugar

Directions:

1. Place cocoa powder in a medium bowl. In a small pot over medium heat, heat up Kahlua until it just begins to boil. Turn off, remove from heat, and pour over cocoa powder. Whisk quickly until cocoa dissolves completely and no lumps are left. Set aside to cool completely.
2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Cream together butter and sugar until light and fluffy, either by hand or mixer (2-3 minutes). Beat in eggs one at a time, then stir in vanilla.
3. In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Add dry ingredients alternately with the cooled cocoa mixture to the butter mixture, until all ingredients are just incorporated.
4. Divide into 12 separate muffin tins (I used silicon molds). Bake for 11 to 13 minutes, until middles are just or not quite set. Allow to cool, then remove onto wire rack with a tray underneath. Using a toothpick, make a dozen holes on the bottoms of each cake and coat with glaze. Let the cakes sit for 10 minutes, then flip them over and repeat.
5. To make glaze: In a saucepan over medium heat, melt chocolate and butter. Whisk until completely smooth. Add Kahlua and turn off heat. Add powdered sugar and whisk until no lumps remain. Pour over cakes.

A (Bon-Bon) Birthday Bash

It’s probably rather belated to be announcing this via the world wide ether, but since yesterday (August 12th) was my birthday, I’m claiming my birthday-ial prerogative to say what I want, and–

–and there goes the punch line. Oops. My friends always did tell me I was the worst joke-teller in the world. Guess these things don’t really change with age, huh?

Anyway, Happy Belated Birthday, Me!

I never really understood the people who get really, really melancholic when their birthday tumbles around like a jolly rolly-poly each year. The only living creature that’s allowed to get marginally depressed about a day that’s all about celebrating you, in my opinion, is Eeyore, and that’s only because he A.A. Milne is a genius, may he rest in peace. Plus, he–that is, the donkey–is just so darn cute.

Of course, I can only imagine what Eeyore would say in that slow, gloomy voice of his if he saw this cake (I’ll tell you why in a second):

Okay, here’s the secret: I didn’t actually get to eat any yet.

Thanks, Eeyore. I can feel your gloomy sympathetic vibrations. (Haunted Mansion reference, anyone? No? Okay, never mind…I’ve obviously been reading too much of the amazing Disneyland Encyclopedia I got myself as an early “birthday present.”)

This is the world’s best, most nostalgia-filled ice cream cake ever known to mankind. I exaggerate. And again, I cite my belated-birthday-prerogative to do so. It’s the best. Period. Mocha almond fudge ice cream stuffed inside a smooth, I-don’t-know-to-this-day-how-they-do-it-chocolate-ganache/frosting with green icing and frosted with chopped nuts. YUM.

If anyone has any ideas about how I can put Baskin Robbins out of business by replicating this frosting, I would not be opposed at all.

That being said, as a very loyal customer…ahem…

I ask for this cake every single year we’re at home for my birthday. For the past few years, all I’ve gotten was a lousy slightly less satisfactory ice cream pie version of this. It’s not nearly as good. It’s like trying to compare a vacation to Disneyland with, say, a “vacation” to your local petting zoo. Sure, the latter’s quaint. No, it’s never going to be as good. And your parents need to stop pretending it is, suck it up, and get you the real deal. (But hey, I love my parents anyway.)

At any rate, we didn’t eat this cake because I spent Saturday celebrating my birthday a day early with my friends. We bought a carrot cake and served the ice cream bon-bombes I made for the occasion because a) it would feed more mouths, and b) frankly, I’m extremely territorial when it comes to my ice cream cake (hey, you would be too if you got to eat it only once every 365 days) so generous and thought ahead about how my small, six-inch round ice cream cake wouldn’t feed all of my friends. So kind. It must come with, erm, the maturity of age. Yeah.

My mom still babies me when I come home and cooks me up feasts like I’m a starving, helpless newborn. I generally try not to correct this mistaken impression.

Helpless? Sure I am. Newborn? Uhhh…yeah, if you say so. Does that mean I get to eat this stuff every night?

Anyway, every year I’m reminded of why I love turning a year older. I lied earlier when I said that it’s a day about celebrating you–it’s really a day about celebrating the fact that you can share your day with everybody else around you that you care about. And every year I’m reminded that every day should be, you know, birthday status. (The birthday girl privileges, while obviously not a given, would be a nice side perk to keep around.)

For my birthday, my mom made me my favorite dish ever–Chinese chicken salad, a la mom. It’s seriously one of the only meat dishes I will ask to eat, and so worth every extra carbon footprint I add by eating it. (Of course, I would just as happily eat a tofu and/or soy meat variation on this–but that’s pure unheard-of nonsense in my household. “You want meat sub-ee-whaaa?” they say. “Eat chicken. Good for you.” I grossly exaggerate. And now I digress.)

You can also tell when the carnivore, a.k.a. my brother is around for dinner, because then the whole cow comes out on the groaning table.

My friends came over to our newly-recarpeted place and spent all of Saturday night burning the night oil playing board games, solving logic puzzles, and being completely conniving jerks in a game called Revolution. It’s sort of like Mafia, but everybody gets to play, and nobody gets killed–it’s all about reading other people’s ability to lie and trying to collaborate to figure out who’s on your team.

I’m a huge fan of backstabbing/deceit games (apparently I’m the worst person to play Munchkins with; I’m a notoriously good con-woman, which should serve as a warning sign of…something?). My palms were seriously sweaty; I was a government spy for five turns in a row, and by the end of the last game of the night at two in the morning, my friend said that his heard had been torn a million times throughout the night because he trusted me so many times.

Oops. Sorry, bud.

It was, however, an awesome start to a new age, and it was killer getting to pass a birthday midnight with my crew. On the actual day of my birthday, my parents bought us all Les Mis tickets!

Now, I’ve seen my fair share of very good musicals–Wicked, Rent, Lion King, Phantom, the list goes on and on–and this was definitely in the top three. I’ve (slightly shamefully) never heard anything about the storyline, much less read Hugo’s complete Les Mis, but I enjoyed the performance so much. Not only were the singers stellar–the men who sang for Jean Valjean and Javert were amazing–but the actors just drew you in in a way that is so difficult for musicals to achieve in good faith.

I loved everything from the revolution story, to the personal story of a converted convict, to the tragic and happy fates of the lovers. It was all beautifully done, and I would see it again in a heartbeat. Plus I guess it didn’t hurt that Marius was such a good looker, huh?

Only kidding. Sort of.

Yeah, not really.

Anyway, remember what I said earlier about ice cream cakes being my favorite dessert in the world? I lied. Again. What can I say? I’m a chronic liar with backstabbing talents. The CIA should hire me.

This is my favorite dessert–jello cheesecake, made by my auntie. I tried making this once, failed miserably like Les Mis, and stuck to being fed like a foie gras duck. And my aunt made it just for my birthday!

I’m going to post this recipe when I try it again. You need to try this. Just maybe not very soon. My recipe. My cheesecake.

Anyway, the rest of the night was spent with more amazing food and family time. One last thing before I turn in for the night after all the festivities…

Can you guess what this is?

I’ll give you a hint…

Yeah. Weird, right? In the wise words of Erik Per Sullivan the seahorse from finding nemo, it’s…the butt.

And on that incredibly mature, new-age note, I’m off to listen to some Susan Boyle before I go to sleep. NEDFM post for today will have to wait until, er, later today. Happy reading, and happy eatings to y’all!

National Eat Dessert First Month Challenge Day 1: Raspberry Cream Pie

On the first day of August, my bakers gave to me…

Two really stellar entries! Like, really stellar.

That’s right, folks–we’re kicking off the first day of National Eat Dessert First! Month, an entire 31 days dedicated to a different themed dessert but, more importantly, getting those desserts onto our plates and palates! Each day will feature a new guest chef’s photos and recipes for each theme. If you’re interested in joining in for a dessert-tastic month, read the details at the Dessert Month Challenge post. It’s never too late to start!

National Eat Dessert First Month Challenge Day 1: Raspberry Cream Pie

Our first entries feature up-and-coming baker rebecky_mo, who has posted on the community site for the first time and really stepped up to the challenge with her decadent version of raspberry cream pie.

We also have a fantastic entry from kamaliitaru, whose mouthwatering photo rendition of raspberry lemonade cheesecake is creative truly criminal.

RASPBERRY CREAM PIE ENTRY #1

Courtesy of: rebecky_mo

Source of Original Post: rebecky_mo’s bakebakebake post

Original Post: 

RASPBERRY CREAM PIE ENTRY #2

Courtesy of: kamaliitaru

Source of original post: bakebakebake

For the original posts and recipes–

Carrot Cake

Over dinner today, which my roommate catered, we had a discussion about zucchini casserole and the rising epidemic of young kids who have actually managed to convince themselves (and their willing parents) that to eat vegetables would be akin to sticking one’s head in a vat of, say, a very concentrated acid.

We concluded with the very astute observation that perhaps this was why, all trends considered, carrot cakes have that nifty little anti-nutritional, sans-essential-vitamins carrot on the top. In fact, I’m pretty sure that that sugary faux carrot probably constitutes more daily servings of vegetables for the average modern-day kid than he/she would normally get. I remember reading several food blogs a while back that would have comments like, “Success! I love this carrots cake and/or zucchini bread and/or some other variation of mildly-vegetated sugary substance recipe because I sneaked in my kids’ servings of vegetables!”

Not that it’s bad to try and sneak your kids veggies through yummy things–that’s like teaching through fun topics! Completely and totally acceptable. But I do believe in being straightforward about what you eat. In response to some concerned and insightful comments about my topic in this post, I guess that’s the point I want to emphasize more than anything else. I bake because I love it and because it brings joy to people in my life–healthy subs are great options that I don’t always, however, offer. I believe that it’s healthier, in some ways, to acknowledge what we’re eating and enjoy it than to pretend that it necessarily is “healthy.” I hope that makes sense.

That being said, here’s a photo of the vegetable culprit.

No, that’s not Photoshop. Heck, I don’t even know how to use a word processor properly, let alone try and fool you by editing my images ever-so-slyly. So yes, that carrot cake actually glistening. And let me tell you, it is gooood.

I had to omit walnuts from my batch because I’m taking the leftovers to my students tomorrow, and there are some food allergies (I know what you’re thinking, “Carrot cake for your students–and you’re talking about parents spoiling their kids?” Well–er…let me get back to you on that one). But you most definitely need to make these with nuts. Pecans work, too. This cake was still delicious, but I’m a sucker for the texture of a full-fledged, nut-filled carrot cake with plump raising and the whole shebam.

If you don’t believe me, just look at another photo.

But speaking of classes, did I mention that this blog was created in large part for a class I’m teaching? It’s “New Media,” and blogging is a big part of what we do in class, so I’m using carrot cakes in yet another way to teach my students. Nifty, eh? That being said…Feel free to leave a comment for the green-thumbed, bright-eyed blogger if you wish! I’m technically supposed to show them what it’s like catering to an audience and/or interacting with readers, so comments would be especially welcome at this crucial juncture. (In other words, if you like what you see/read, please let me know!)

Recipe under the cut–happy readings, all, and of course, happy eatings!