S'mores Cupcakes

In between my break away from physics and finding a job in an established bakery, I worked in a small cake shop selling special order cakes and thousands of cake and cookie decorating equipment. Though my job title was "baker," it was a far stretch from my actual job description. I spent one or two mornings a week baking up boxed cake mixes; my employer hovering over my shoulder convinced I was going to mess them up.

It was frustrating in many aspects. Though my boss was truly a lovely woman who went out on a limb to give me a chance, the job wasn't quite what I had dreamed of. I spent my hours daydreaming of a bakery where I had freedom of ingredients and the trust to make something delicious (it would eventually happen, but not today). The cake shop didn't even have a stick of butter buried in the back of the fridge. I looked.

When I wasn't in the back of the store baking, I was out front helping customers and keeping the shelves stocked. The store was never terribly busy. Most of my time was spent languidly lining the food colors in stick straight lines, the sound of my breathing and the shuffling of paper in the back the only noises in the stilled shop. Among the quiet activities, attending to The Wall of Sprinkles became the most time consuming. The wall held at least a hundred different packages of sprinkles of every imaginable shape and color—jimmies, nonpareils, dragees, sanding sugar, crystal sugar, holiday sprinkles, and so forth. It was, in essence, a sprinkle lover's mecca.

Rather than "baker," my job title really should have read "sprinkle curator." I attentively filled the sprinkle containers by weight, tapped them shut tightly, and priced them with love. I arranged them by color, type, and holiday on the shelves—five containers in back and four in front. I never meant to get irrationally obsessed with The Wall of Sprinkles, but it was beyond my control. As soon as a customer bought one of the sprinkles off the shelf, I would run to the back to grab another to make my sprinkle-lined shelves even.

Looking back, I think I was looking for validation. Validation in my decision to switch careers and validation to pursue baking. If I couldn't prove to my employer that I could bake, perhaps my devout attention to The Wall of Sprinkles would, in some small way, redeem me. It took a couple months of hard work before she allowed me to frost the cakes for her to decorate. It was the smallest of steps for me, but for her it was as large as the Grand Canyon. Though I set out to learn to bake, the true skill I came away with was patience. Honestly, I think it was more valuable in the end.

Well, that and I have an unusual fondness for sprinkles.

These S'more Cupcakes are delightful, irresistible, and impossible to ignore. The cupcakes have a crunchy graham cracker base, topped with a sweet chocolate cupcake, rich chocolate glaze, and toasted marshmallow meringue. I love the texture of these cupcakes—crunchy, light, soft, sticky, and gooey. It truly is a s'more in cupcake form. These are perfect for birthday parties, long summer nights, and when you want a special treat just for you.

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Chocolate Marshmallow Whoopie Pies

The history of the whoopie pie is surprisingly sordid, full of drama and general confusion. With an unusual name like whoopie pie, it seems destined to have an interesting story behind it. Whoopie pies are essentially two soft chocolate cookies sandwiched together with a sweet filling. Interestingly, whoopie pies were originally known as "gobs," a name I find both humorous and nondescript (Hey, do you want a gob?). I have no trouble understanding why the name was changed somewhere along the way.

Nevertheless, the true controversy begins with the origin. Depending on which source you choose to believe, a very different tale will be spun. Everybody wants a piece of the (whoopie) pie.

First, we'll hear out the food historian. In medieval Germany, long before electricity and marshmallow fluff, they were making cake-like pastries with filling over roaring fires—the ancestors to the whoopie pie. This pastry was passed down over generations, eventually reaching the United States and finding a home with the Pennsylvania Amish. The Amish women, in turn, would make these pies as a treat for their husbands and children. Legend has it, when they would spot these chocolate pies packed neatly in their lunch pails, they would let out a whooopie! with a shout.

Thus, the whoopie pie was born.

Maine also claims ownership over the pie, claiming it was invented within their state lines. Rumor has it that a woman working in a bakery in the 1920s ended up with extra batter after whipping up some cakes. Instead of tossing it out, she scooped spoonfuls of the batter onto a baking tray and popped them into the oven. When they were done, she stuck the small cakes together with leftover frosting and created the first ever whoopie pie. While there is little to no evidence to this tale (the proof was inconveniently burned in a bakery fire), it didn't sway Maine's steadfast belief, especially when they legally made it the state treat.

Boston also claims ties to the whoopie pie, but their evidence is even less substantial than Maine's or Pennsylvania's. Boston claimed the first whoopie pie recipe appeared in a cookbook created by one of their own bakeries in the 1930s. It didn't. Though the same bakery went out of business in the 1970s, the name of the bakery was painted long ago on the side of the building and still remains, though faded. If you ask the right people, they'll wistfully recall there was another sign painted below that read "Whoopee!" Pies—proof of whoopie pie's rightful heritage.

Whether you choose to believe the food historians in Pennsylvania, the governmental body of Maine, or the nostalgic patrons of long gone bakery in Boston, the real heritage of the whoopie pie doesn't really matter in the long run. The important part is that the whoopie pie is here to stay.

These Chocolate Marshmallow Whoopie Pies are soft, sweet, and filled with a hidden history. Two soft chocolate cake-like cookies are sandwiched together with a marshmallow creme. Since I don't believe in the one purpose whoopie pie pans, these can be easily made on a standard baking sheet. Whoopie pies are very similar to a soft Oreo cookie (and are equally at home with a glass of milk). Give these a try, if only to taste the hints of its sordid and surprisingly complicated past.

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Chocolate Caramel Crispy Bars

As the car barrels down the highway at a steady pace, I find myself sitting in the backseat, writing to you. The sun is shining through the window, sending a brilliant glare onto my computer screen; so bright I find myself needing a pair of sunglasses. Between reading books and staring out at the brown, snowless landscape through the window, I've successfully passed seven hours strapped in one place. I'm headed to the mountains for a weekend getaway filled with warm fireplaces, fresh snow, and a pair of skis strapped to my feet.

Everyone needs a vacation now and then.

As anyone who has ever taken a road trip knows, they require a different class of food altogether. There are traditions and rituals that must be followed, either passed down from parent to child or evolved from assorted friendships. For instance, I have a friend who insists on buying a bag of Fig Newtons before we take on the road. A healthy snack, she claims (but they are not quite so healthy after you've eaten your way through nine or ten).

Another friend and I always stock up on beef jerky and soda at the nearest gas station. We eat until parched from the salty meat and sick from the carbonation. Why we insist on doing this, I'll never know, but it is a sin to break a tradition once it has been set. Beef jerky and soda it will always be, whether I like it or not.

Growing up and traveling with my own family, road trips were one of the rare occasions my mother would fill the car with candy, cookies, soda, and other forbidden delights. With so many prohibited treats within reach, it made the fact that we were stuck in a car for countless hours bearable (and, thinking back, perhaps that is where my mother's tradition started in the first place). Even as I sit here now, surrounded by bags of candy and pretzels, I've found myself contributing to this madness. In preparation for the trip, I made a batch of these chocolate caramel crispy bars. After testing them out on the road, I can attest that they were a very good idea.

Nevertheless, the mountains have started appearing over the horizon. Living on the flat, golden plains, I often forget how tall they really stand. So, if you'll excuse me, it seems I have a bit more window watching to do.

What are your road trip food traditions?

These Chocolate Caramel Crispy Bars are crispy rice cereal bars with attitude. Made in the same method as the traditional, a healthy portion of chocolate and rich caramel sauce are added to the melted marshmallows to create the only variant. When taking a bite, the chocolate and marshmallow hit the tongue first, followed by a smooth caramel finish. These are simple to make and you may find them disappearing before you were ready to see them go.

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