You remember those, right? All chocolatey and delicious on the outside. Gooey and creamy on the inside. These cupcakes are part of my childhood. And I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume you've got your own personal experiences with these babies. Cause this is America, after all. Home of the Fat Kids, Land of the Brave.
Now, I do my best to avoid impulse gas station cupcakes so cleverly placed at fingertip's reach near the checkout counter. I really do. And I tell my kids that they should quickly learn to expect the word 'NO.' to answer their snack requests while standing in line to make a purchase...uh, anywhere. But, I must admit. I, myself, have a difficult time blocking these cupcakes from my periferral vision. Because I never look them in the eye. I can't. Its too dangerous.
But. The other day, while I was at Walmart, I caved. I bought two packages of the vile beasts. That's four cupcakes. FOUR.
I was good, though. I only ate one. I fed the rest to my family. Then I decided I needed more. But I couldn't succomb to the idea of going back for six more cupcakes. I mean, who eats ten cupcakes in one day? I told myself, "I do not need fourteen cupcakes."
So I baked a bunch of them myself.
And now you can, too.