Step 1: Go to the grocery store after work. Throw your purse in the cart so that there’s no room for actual ingredients. Text your roommate: “We have nutmeg, right?” Flirt with the cashier shamelessly.
Step 2: Carry all six heavy, brown bags up Third Avenue by yourself. Your fingers will probably freeze to the handles. Don’t panic. This is normal. You will want someone to kiss them warm again when you get inside, but remember, nobody loves you this Fall. Kiss them warm yourself. It’s for your own good.
Step 3: Put on your Star Wars apron with your name embroidered at the top and Boba Fett ironed on the bottom. Try not to think about the picture he took of you wearing it last Thanksgiving when you made dinner for him in your old apartment. Set an iPhone reminder to burn that picture. (When you’re done baking, of course.)
Step 4: Combine 3 ¼ cups flour, 2 tsp baking powder, 2 tsp cinnamon, 1 ½ tsp cloves, 1 tsp allspice, 1tsp nutmeg, ½ tsp baking soda, and ½ tsp salt in a large mixing bowl. Turn up the volume on “Stealing My Heart” by the Rolling Stones. Nearly break the flat, rubber spatula your aunt gave you using it as a microphone to scream, “I THOUGHT YOU WERE DINNER, BUT YOU WERE THE SHARK!” Fall off your step-stool. Wipe stray flour from your chin.
Step 5: Place 2 ¾ cups granulated sugar and 1 cup veggie oil in a smaller mixing bowl. Beat on medium speed until fully incorporated. Crack four eggs into the mix by tapping them aggressively on the side of the bowl. Separate the shells with your fingers. Pick out the bits of shell that will inevitably get lost in the sugar-oil. But don’t worry. No one’s going to sigh impatiently if you crack eggs badly this year. Add 15 oz. of canned pumpkin to complete the wet mix. When you’re all finished, detach the metal appendages from your mixer. It’s more fun to lick them clean without having to share with anyone, anyways.
Step 6: Pour the pumpkin goo into the spice-flour, stirring slowly with a wooden spoon. Pretend that you’re Hermione Granger mixing Poly Juice potion in the girls’ toilets. Pretend that you’re a smart, independent, badass heroine who would punch Draco Malfoy in the face whenever necessary. Stop pretending. Realize that you actually are that person. Realize that the Dementors can’t catch you as long as you keep sample-tasting the chocolate frosting. Promise yourself that the next person that you kiss won’t be there to suck away your soul.
Step 7: Reach into the cupboard and pull out a set of cupcake holders covered in roses. Frown. His mother bought you those for your birthday. Plan to donate them to a holiday food drive in the coming months. Put them away for now. His family was never your family.
Step 8: Run down three flights of stairs to the bodega below your apartment. Buy cupcake holders leftover from a Halloween sale. Black bats and witchy hexes and Frankenstein bolts. Fill them ¾ of the way up with batter. Can you guess what comes next? Lick the spoon.
Step 9: Bake at 350° for 20 minutes, or, until you can stab a toothpick in the middle without goop pouring out. I’d tell you to let them cool, but who wants to wait? Break one of those bad-boys open and burn your fingers a little on the steam. Pop a crumbly chunk into your mouth. “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,”? Bullshit. These taste better than being in love.
*Kneady Bakery does NOT make cupcakes, because they are too busy creating wonderful confectionery delights that don't resemble any of the boring stuff you'd find at a Stepford housewife bake sale. So, if you really want one, you'll have to come to Brooklyn. OR make your own using my recipe. Sorry. That's just how this works. If you'd like to complain about this, send a Howler to @WhitneyPuppy.
To read more from the brilliant New York blogger of Kneady's heart, please direct your attention to her contributions to Thought Catalog HERE !