It was the English scribe John Keats who first fashioned the prose, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.”
There was a time, once—a time not too long ago, even—when the cupcake was a thing of beauty. The diminutive dessert was synonymous with good tidings and occasions of joy, a rare treat, a morsel of bite-sized sweetness to flank the happier moments in life. It was lovely in all its scaled-down and understated glory. Though the cupcake possessed the sort of sweetness only reserved for the food pyramid’s smallest segment, it somehow maintained a distinctly American wholesomeness that was befitting of a Norman Rockwell painting or a black and white sitcom of yesteryear.
What the cupcake lacked in complexity, it more than made up for in reliability. You always knew what you were getting: a simple, satisfying, and all-inclusive confection at the head of the potluck dessert table or on the grocery store end cap. Wrought from boxed batter baked into paper-encased uniformity and topped with frosting of impossibly artificial hue, the cupcake was, simply, what it was. That is, until it wasn’t.
In recent years, the cupcake has sustained a stark mutation that has left its appearance all-but-unrecognizable, its values marred, and its reputation tarnished. This plain and affordable dietary respite ended its days hidden away in suburban bakeries and downtown bistros under overly elaborate artisan cloaking. What spent its best days as an elementary school birthday treat and last-minute party purchase ended its run as a wedding cake alternative and, evidently, fare to be paired with spirits. Tomorrow night’s Bourbon & Dessert Pairing presented by Classy Girl Cupcakes and Bad Genie Rock Lounge marks the melding of two immensely divergent consumables under the shoddy umbrella of one inexcusably forced event. It also signals the official death of the cupcake trend.
The cupcake resurgence was originally put on life support around the same time the relationship of Carrie and Aidan on Sex And The City—a show which, too, championed the dessert in its most obnoxious form—was. Not unlike Ugg Boots, Panera Bread, and the term “BFF,” the concept of paying an exorbitant sum of money for a motherfucking cupcake survived through steady migration to suburban and secondary metropolitan markets. As Pennsylvania was to steel, California was to gold, and Texas is to oil, Milwaukee (specifically, the Third Ward) kept the lavish combination of unnecessarily high-end ingredients and smugness alive long after its best years were behind it. Tomorrow, in Cathedral Square’s premier “Rock Lounge,” patrons willing to spend $35 (or $60 for couples!) can play an active part in the burial desecration of the cupcake, one bourbon-paired dessert at a time.
Alas, something once thought to be so beautiful, joyous, and eternal will soon pass into nothingness. It’s astounding something so full of fat was capable of jumping the shark.
The cupcake was preceded in death by the cake pop (2009), the Whoopie Pie (2012), the Cronut (2013), and bacon-topped donuts (2014). It’s survived by brownies, fruit-filled pies, cheesecake, and putting Nutella on a bunch of different shit you wouldn’t expect Nutella to be on.
Here lies the cupcake (1796 – this week). Goodnight, sweet prince. They can’t hurt you now.