sugar Sweet sunshine

Oh, cupcakes. I have such a strained relationship with you. It's complicated verging on awkward.

On one hand, you taste amazing. ('Ted, your hair looks amazing!')*** And you are the perfect size. And you're so damn cute-- with the sprinkles and the pastel icing and the high potential of a birthday candle. Your presence really does make the day a little better. You're a little pocket sized party. And I do appreciate that. I do.

However. While I used to be obsessed with your cute little sweetness I, like all New Yorkers, became completely disenchanted when hundreds of overweight tourists began forming lines down Bleeker and 10th, annoying the crap out of me. You quickly became nothing more than a taxicab key chain, a statue of liberty foam crown, or a empire state building snow globe. You became a symbol of non-New Yorker New York and my love for you transferred to new food obsessions. Like bacon.

Luckily... a little bakery down on Essex and Rivington on the LES brought you back into my life this weekend. A little place called sugar Sweet sunshine (named for an etching of sugar Sweet sunshine, Love found in the cement nearby. If THAT isn't cute New York, what is?) served up the best, cutest, most fresh lemon cupcake I've had in a long time. You tasted like heaven. And you KNOW how much I love lemon.

There weren't any annoying lines. There weren't any 'cupcake bouncers'. There wasn't any reaching, any pushing, any embarrassment for being there so close to the fancy Marc Jacobs stores. Just cute 1960's retro furniture, vintage wallpaper, and plenty of seating.

So thank you, sSs for bringing the cupcake back into my life and into my heart. I do love you still, dear cupcakes. And I always will.

xoxo,

Sarah

***that was for you, Katie. And John. And Alex. And anyone else who I've made watch the Britney Spears scenes of How I Met Your Mother over and over again on YouTube.