Black Velvet Spider Cupcakes

In the middle of my childhood playroom sat a box of unspeakable horrors. Disguised as a brightly colored toy box, it frequently brought one of my adolescent fears to reality—my fear of spiders. The innocent toy box had a slight gap between the lid and the box. The occasional spider would crawl in under the cover of darkness leaving my sister and I to discover it in the morning. The toy box quickly became an object my sister and I dreaded to open. Though it held all of our favorite toys and games, we'd often weigh the possibility of finding spiders with childhood fun, deciding whether we wanted a toy badly enough to gamble the chance of arachnids.

The fear of spiders usually won.

When we were up for facing our fears, we'd slowly crack open the toy box together, our eyes immediately darting back and forth for signs of life (more often than not the spiders we encountered were already dead, but the sight of a spider, whether dead or alive, still elicited the same screams). Once the box stood open before us, we'd check whether the toy we desired sat on top or if it was buried deep in the pile. If it rested near the bottom of the box, the two of us would debate once more whether it was really really worth the chance.

If it was and we were feeling brave, I would roll up my sleeves, take a deep breath, and begin digging. As the older sibling, it was my responsibility to keep my little sister safe from the horrors of the world (and our toy box). Looking back, I can still feel the drop of my stomach and recall the real fear I felt as I carefully lifted each toy out of the way, inspecting it for creepy-crawlies.

Even today, the fears from childhood rush back whenever I must face the same toy box in my parent's basement to find a toy for a little cousin.

As I've grown older, my fear of spiders has, for most intents and purposes, disappeared. When I'm resting beneath the trees or walking on a nature trail, spiders and I can get along quite well together. I might even greet one hello if he treads close enough. Even so, I still don't like a visit from my spider friends when I'm not expecting it, as they dash across the bathroom floor when I step out of the shower or crawl up the white walls of the apartment as I'm watching television.

Afterwards, I can often be spotted chasing after them with a tissue, trying to convince the poor creatures that I'm not trying to kill them. After catching the frightened spider, I like to bring it outside and set him free. As I send him along his merry way, I politely ask him to visit the neighbors next time instead.

Black Velvet Spider Cupcakes are a wonderful addition to a Halloween menu. The flavor of the cupcakes match the classic red velvet cupcake, but are dyed black instead of the traditional red. These black velvet cupcakes can form the base of many Halloween inspired recipes, but today they are represented as frightful little spiders. A few decorative ingredients turn the black velvet cupcakes into creepy-crawly creatures which will (deliciously) frighten your guests.

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Blueberry Cream Cheese Cupcakes

After I stopped working in a bakery, it took me awhile to began to appreciate cake again. Working in a bakery does have its perks, primarily in the form of an abundance of day old cookies, cakes, and pastries, but the perks can soon begin to feel smothering. It started when I felt bad about tossing out food too old to sell (but not too old to enjoy). I would "save" a pastry from the trash every now and again, as it found its way onto my lunch plate. In a few short weeks, I gained the baker's obligatory ten pounds and began to realize that my mission may not be such a good idea to pursue.

Even so, it wasn't unusual to nibble on a cookie fresh from the oven or eat a day old scone with a cup of coffee to start my early mornings. It's simply a part in the life of a baker.

Eventually, as the story often goes, I grew mighty tired of eating anything baked. I became immune to the scents wafting from the oven and found the willpower, for the first time in my life, to put my obsession with eating butter and sugar at bay. Many days I'd find myself wishing for vegetables to snack on as my perpetual sugar high became too much to bear. Despite this, I could never shake my love and desire to eat cookies.

Cake scraps were easily the most abundant treat in the bakery. I assembled numerous cakes each day and, after leveling the layers, I'd find myself with a pile of scraps that begged to be eaten. Some days I'd throw them away, some days I'd happily eat them, and some days I'd eat them, not because I wanted to, but simply because they were there. As you can imagine, I reached the point where I had a hard time even looking at cake.

Mae West once said, Too much of a good thing can be wonderful, but I'd have to respectfully disagree. I don't think she was talking about cake.

After my days at the bakery, I still struggled with my slight aversion to cake. I'd make a cake here or there (and enjoyed them very much), but I wanted to crave cake again. I wanted to become so overcome with the sweetness of frosting and the classic texture of a good cake that I'd need to turn on the oven just to satisfy my appetite.

Eight months later, I can successfully proclaim my reluctance to cake is over. After making a batch of these cupcakes, I became absolutely smitten. Since these cupcakes were finished off a few days ago, I can scarcely think of anything else when I head into the kitchen to find a snack.

These Blueberry Cream Cheese Cupcakes are a dream. The cupcakes have a bright, exuberant flavor aided by a good dose of vanilla and a smattering of blueberries. The cream cheese frosting, however, elevates these cupcakes from ordinary to extraordinary. The frosting is thick and tangy, offsetting the sweet blueberries with a coveted balance. When I baked these cupcakes, all eighteen were gone in less than twelve hours—three people (including me) managed to make ten of them disappear in just a couple hours.

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Blackberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake

Some days I feel as if I've grown up suddenly, my personality changed and shaped by time and the world around me. It's as if I woke up one morning a different person, but I can't seem to pinpoint what those differences may be. Some days I feel the same as ever, my nature indistinguishable from the eight year old girl who walked to school each day with a heavy backpack on her back. As much as I'd like to believe I've grown into a young woman, it's easy to feel like a child posing as an adult, identifying with the Hollywood films where teenagers wake up to a thirty year old body and realize they can eat as much ice cream as they'd like (or, in my case, cake).

I think the truth lies somewhere in between, a mixture of new characters and old habits evolving over time.

Some days I do things that embarrass me, mortified by the words that came out of my mouth or an action I took in a moment of uncertainty. In the small moments of personal shame that follow, I vow never to do or say such a thing again. Sometimes I have similar moments with similar circumstances (I am, after all, the same person often making the same mistakes as I strive to change), the desire to grow up and be someone else never more present. Some days I surprise myself, doing something brave or confident and, though it seems out of character for a moment, I wonder if this is what it means to mature and grow a little wiser.

When I go back and watch old family movies, it makes me realize how my true nature really hasn't changed as much as I imagined. As I view the home movies with my family, I'll often comment on what's happening, only to have the much younger version of me make the exact same observation using identical words a moment later. Though I often share a kindred spirit with a younger me, it's eerie to visually see how little I've changed over time, at least in some aspects.

When I was younger I thought I would be a completely new person as each major stage hit my life. I thought I would feel differently somehow, when I went from elementary school to middle and from middle to high school—older, wiser, less shy, more confident. As each new stage approached, I was left with the realization that I wasn't changed in any significant way than before (except, perhaps, I had grown a little taller).

The changes our natures go through as people, as individuals, as children as much as adults, are so small, so modest, that if you weren't paying attention perhaps you'd never notice the transitions. I catch these minute changes when I no longer shy away from conversations with people I don't know. I uncover them when I do something brave and strong that I would have been intimidated with months or years before. Perhaps I notice them most when meeting with old friends I haven't seen in awhile, realizing how different we've both become.

Today, I may be a completely different person than I was yesterday. I think, however, that it's for the better.

This Blackberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake is a gift to share with friends and family. The cake is moist and light, with a hint of ginger and an abundance of blackberries. The cake is topped with a crumble topping, which lends a bright, sweet brown sugar flavor to the slightly tart berries. With a dusting of powdered sugar, this cake makes a lovely addition to a summer evening.

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