Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. I read a rather unfortunate
article in the Guardian the other day, where the author spews venom at the American cupcake, calling it an "alien invasion from across the Atlantic" garishly decorated with "great wodges of lurid buttercream". Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. She then continues on to describe the superiority (or perhaps austerity?) of British "fairy cakes" - disappointingly flat versions of cupcakes, with a splatter of melted icing sugar (or as the author describes it: "traditional non-fat glace stuff").
Jealous, much? Maybe your 5-year-old, who has never been introduced to the wonder - no, glory - of our cupcakes will eat your devastatingly boring and uninspired "fairy cakes", but we Americans have been championing our own beautiful pastel creations way longer than bobble-head Carrie from Sex & The City has been stuffing her Manolo Blahnik-ed face with Magnolia Bakery duds, thank you very much. Shame, too, since I've always thought fairy cakes were ... cute.
Oooh,
burn.
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