Lemon Blackberry Buckle Cupcakes with Lemon Curd Filling and Blackberry Buttercream(ish) Frosting

I’m notorious for my neuroticism—an emotional pain in the ass.

Mom likes to tell the story of my first Christmas; I cried for twelve hours.

I’ve seen pictures of flower-clad little girls from years past, holding fists to her eyes behind candlelit cakes because that damn song about happiness and birthdays, the one that apparently required my frosted Bugs Bunny to be set on fire, is just so darn sad.

And sometimes Easter at my house is actually at Dinosaur BBQ with gospel choirs and super awesome macaroni and cheese; but most of the time you can find us centered around the gas fireplace in our garage, the one on wheels next to boxes of beer cans.  It’s a conversation piece, really; especially when Dad, standing outside, behind the garage because he had to pee, awkwardly stumbles toward the window to yell at my mother and her “God damn clicking” in an attempt to light such a refined element of class.  Other times it’s in the kitchen and I’m crying over cupcakes while my brother is in the other room leading a one-man massacre via wireless controller . . . on a Holy day.

But that’s okay, because my buttercream didn’t dissolve; it only melted a little and I didn’t really want to pipe frosting flowers anyway.

Nope, I’m not bitter and neither are these bad bitches:

I love cupcakes; and if I could open a bakery, live on a farm, write a book and then marry myself, I would.  I have compulsions to create, like pretty much all the time.  When I was little-er, my mother made a point to keep Betty Crocker’s baked-goods-in-a-bag in the cupboards at all times.  Some people are stress-eaters, I am, and always have been, a stress-baker.

But, like I said, I’m also a nuisance—I threaten my togetherness like the omission of chocolate from my first, childhood attempt at scratch-baked brownies bullies those sad little bricks until I could no longer pretend that they were edible.

See, I wanted blueberry, lemon and blueberry, because it was everywhere, trusted, and looked exotic—divine.  But it was everywhere—done, unoriginal—so I couldn’t have lemon and blueberry, at least not by the labors of my own hands.

I know, I know.

So after settling on blackberry, combing the palates of college students for personal opinions, reverting back to blueberry, and confirming that the success of my dry-heat endeavor depended on whether or not my recipe was special, I crazy ladied myself over to the grocery store and bought three, yes, three, pints of blackberries before I had the chance to give into the Woman’s Prerogative yet again.

And I made buttercream, blackberry buttercream based on its blueberry counterpart.  I should have added milk, immersion blenders are not meant to be used in the context of plastic tupperware, and blackberry puree splatters don’t really compliment green kitchen walls, but it tasted like blackberries and that’s enough for me.

Imagine, like, tupperware buttcream, all plastic-y and gross.

Weird.

Manic Confections, part dos:

The cakes themselves were much easier.  You know, prep., sift, mix, mis en place, the whole deal, except for the part when my mother positioned her face over the mixing bowl, my mixing bowl, and asked, “What the hell is wrong with it?”.

Cute, Mother. Cute.

I cussed out the lemon curd, too.  Mostly because my coordination is, like my emotional intelligence, severely underdeveloped, and I poked myself in the face with a microplane zester.  I also poured an extra ½ cup of sugar into an infant-sized double-boiler, used a baby whisk, and ran out of lemons to juice half way through the cooking process.

Hello, Tops Market.  No, I’m not wearing a bra.

My double-boiler boiled over and half of the curd made its way to the stove top, sans pot, and the countertop because the container was about half the size of my strainer and I couldn’t see because my arm was in the way.

And then: the decorating. Oh, the decorating. Fuck you, pre-written images of finished cupcakes in my head. Fancy is for the pinky-up kinds of folk.  Mine is up my nose.

There wasn’t enough sugar in the buttercream.  It started to soften and lose its shape and my practice flowers looked like Tinky Winky after a trip to the electric chair—runny blobs of tacky, purple sweetness.  So I sat there, piping bag in one hand, tears falling into sticky palm of the other, violet fingertips scraping the tops of cupcakes and chucking frosting back into the plastic, yellow bowl that almost was the buttercream.

But it got better. After Mom’s kind words of calmthefuckdownandfrostthedamnthings encouragement, I took a few blops of what I affectionately refer to as Barney Blood and slapped them on the tops of my baby buckle cakes, brought out the camera, set them outside, and . . .

Yup, I cried.

Lemon Blackberry Buckle Cupcakes with Lemon Curd Filling and Blackberry Buttercream(ish) Frosting (Makes 12)

Lemon Blackberry Buckle Cake (Slightly adapted from Lee Bailey’s Country Desserts)

• 2 cups and 1-2 Tbsp of sifted, all purpose flour separated
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, softened
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1 large egg
• 1/2 cup buttermilk
• 2 cups blackberries
• zest and juice of one lemon

Crumb Topping

• 1/4 cup unsalted butter, softened
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/3 cup sifted all purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Place liners in a muffin tin and lightly coat with cooking spray and set aside. Sift together the 2 cups of flour, the baking powder and the salt.  In another bowl, cream the butter and sugar until fluffy, about 3 minutes.  Beat in the egg.  Add the flour mixture in 3 parts, alternating with the milk.  Then, toss the berries with the remaining 1 to 2 tablespoons of flour (to separate and scatter evenly throughout the batter) and fold in.  Pour batter into prepared wells, set aside.  Combine ingredients for topping with a fork to make crumbly mixture. Sprinkle this over the batter.  Bake for 20 minutes, and then test for doneness by gently inserting a toothpick.  If it does not come out clean, give the cake another 2 minutes to bake before re-checking.

Lemon Curd (Adapted from Dessert First)

Yields 2-3 cups (depending on how straining challenged you are)

• 1 cup sugar
• zest from 3 lemons (meyer lemons will also work, especially if you go looking for them at the store when they’re  actually in season)
• 2 large eggs
• 1/2 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 1 inch pieces, softened

In a double boiler, combine the sugar and lemon zest.  Mix together with your fingers until fragrant. Whisk in the eggs and lemon juice.  Whisking constantly, cook the mixture until it thickens (you should be able to make tracks in the mixture with your whisk).  Strain the mixture into a food processor or Blend on high speed until absolutely smooth.

Once blended, let the curd chill in the refrigerator for about half an hour before using.  Store it in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

 Blackberry Buttercream Frosting (Adapted from Baking with Basil)

Ingredients

• 1/2 pint of blackberries
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
• 1/4 cup plus 2 tbsp blackberry puree
• 1 tsp. vanilla extract
• pinch of salt
• 2-3 cups confectioner’s sugar (I used 2, but recommend 3 due to the water content of the berries)

Place blackberries in a blender, food processor, or use an immersion blender, and process until smooth.  With a mixer, cream the butter on medium speed until smooth.  Add blackberry puree (you will have some left over), vanilla, and salt, and mix on medium-low until well-combined.  Gradually add in the powdered sugar, beating on low speed until combined. Then beat for 3-5 minutes on medium-high speed until light and fluffy.

Note: The finished product will have trace amounts of blackberry seeds, but the texture is quite lovely (I’m a firm believer in confectionary touches that let you know what you’re biting into) .

When cupcakes have cooled, place lemon curd into a piping bag.  Using a small paring knife, remove the centers of the cupcakes and fill with curd.  Cut the removed centers in half and replace the top portion, covering the curd.  Frost and garnish, if desired, with sugared blackberries and lemon zest.

Cupcakes and Zoloft are essentially the same thing, right?