There is something very magical about a bite of something.  It is the seduction of a stolen kiss.  Or the step onto the only stone between you and the other bank of a rushing stream.  It is a day so full of life, that the essence of it lasts forever.

This is the opportunity and challenge of a cupcake.

In a single creased paper no bigger than a silver dollar can be tender crumbs of the memory of a birthday in yellow cake covered with chocolate and showered with a kaleidoscope of color.  You could give Fall to someone in six chews with a fresh apple batter and a cap of caramel.  France could fit into the tiniest of a deep, dark souffle with a velvety midnight center and a crackly-as-a-silent-lover’s-quarrel crust.

And for all of that, and all of the love it takes to make a cupcake right, there is no more commitment than the minute it takes to eat one.

I love cupcakes; I would keep them in my pockets if I could.  Bake them for the pure tiny joy of it.