Pink Lemonade Cupcakes

If you want an explanation for why pink lemonade is pink, there are two folkloric options. Both have to do with lemonade vendors at a circus. Option the first involves the vendor needing to resort to using recycled water from a circus star’s laundry to make his lemonade. The hue of the water is attributed to her pink tights. Option the second involves a red candy falling from the vendor’s mouth into the lemonade while the vendor is stirring the batch. Personally, I prefer the pink tights version. Maybe some of you will refuse to play along and insist that you like the unlisted version in which the only things responsible for the lemonade’s pinkness are quaint*, unadulterated raspberries.

It was while I was Googling the reason for why pink lemonade is pink that I came across pink lemonade cupcakes. Because they were pink, I eventually sought to try my hand at them. I used a recipe from a blog called Let Them Eat Cake And Ice Cream, a title I envy so deeply that part of me wishes I thought of it first. The cupcakes themselves are shiny. There’s a bit of sheen on them when they come out of the oven, but the uncooked batter was even shinier. Not a bad thing per se, just something I found to be unusual.

Shiny pink lemonade cupcakes.

Shinier pink lemonade cupcake batter.

Don’t let the sheen stop you from trying them, though. The consistency of the cake was pleasing. I’m at a loss to comment on the actual flavor of the cake, as I found it difficult to detect it in contrast to the overpowering flavor of the frosting. I’ll claim the fault for that. I distinctly remember deviating from the recipe while making the frosting and throwing in more tablespoons of pink lemonade concentrate than was originally called for. However, a friend who I usually refer to as “the Clerk” enjoyed the cupcakes so much that I could persuade her to relieve me of half of the batch.

I made these pink lemonade cupcakes the same day that I made pink champagne cupcakes. I added pink lemonade concentrate to the champagne for a post-baking pick-me-up. It didn’t make the ten dollar champagne I was using taste any more expensive, but it wasn’t a bad idea. Just sayin.

It’s also worth mentioning that these cupcakes do require buttermilk. Sophia later taught me a buttermilk substitution trick that I wish I knew at the time. If you’re not interested in buying a whole damn carton of buttermilk when you need only a cup or less for a recipe, simply take regular milk and add lemon juice, let it sit until it curdles and use that instead. I haven’t tried this yet, seeing as I’m still working through the last carton (not a complete loss: whole wheat buttermilk biscuits used in vegetable pot pies! Post to come!). However, Sophia has enough kitchen expertise that I would trust it.

Yes, those are pink heart cupcake wrappers. Squee!

*For another fun fact, look up the Middle English definition for “quaint” (spelled queynte).