A Pox On You, Icing Sampler!

It was a cold and stormy night in January, and I was up late, frustrated with being confined to my apartment. Sweatpanted and showerless, craving sugar, I was midnight cupcake baking.

I zealously pulled out my hand mixer, mixing bowls, and utensils and began to whip together tasty cupcake batter. Golden cake cupcakes with chocolate icing have been a staple of my diet and makeshift antidepressant since my graduate school days. The only difference between then and now being that I would be left alone to eat all two dozen cupcakes by myself. Still, I beat together the ingredients, laid out my colored paper baking cups in a symmetrical pattern, lovingly spooned out the batter into the cups, and then, as I waited for the oven to reach the proper temperature, sought out the icing, which admittedly, I purchase pre-made. (After all, I am more Lipstick Jungle than Martha Stewart)

I scanned the cabinet where I had found the cupcake mix and did not spot the icing. I thought to myself that there must be a mistake, that I must have stashed the icing with the canned goods, after all, OCD shoppers such as myself do not purchase cupcake mix without icing or paper baking cups.

My attention shifted to the canned goods shelves. I rummaged through spices, chicken stock, tuna, foie gras, canned tomatoes...but to no avail. There was no icing in sight.

The refrigerator was the last stronghold. Perhaps I had accidentally stashed the icing in the fridge?

And then I spotted it on the refrigerator door. The icing!

But then I peeled off the plastic top and was shocked and horrified to see that a pristine, luscious full canister of rich chocolate icing had been violated by the single stroke of a knife. Yes, some unknown visitor had scooped out just enough icing to have a taste and then stashed the container back in the refrigerator, only to crystallize and be lost forever.

My rage quickly turned to resentment, as I realized that I would have to either forego icing my cupcakes - the horror - or make a midnight run to the grocery store in my pjs in the freezing darkness - the horror.

I begrudgingly opted for the latter, all the time questioning the identity of and cursing the responsible party. A pox on you, icing sampler!