Bourbon Vanilla Cupcakes

Posted a piece about June's birth. Not sentimental — I don't write sentimentally, the form doesn't suit me — but specific. About the waiting room at four in the morning, about what you do with your body and your mind when someone you care about is in a room you can't enter. About the particular weight of a very small person in your arms who has already been through something hard and is still here, still clear-eyed, still arriving. Cole read it and sent me a message that said: This is exactly right. Emma called and said she'd cried reading it, which I apologized for and she said not to.

The response included many people writing about premature births — their own children, their own NICU experiences, the particular vocabulary of that experience. A woman in Dallas whose son was born at twenty-eight weeks and is now twelve and healthy wrote to say she'd printed the piece and put it in his baby book. That's the kind of response that makes writing feel worth the exposure it requires.

November approaches. The clocks change next week. The days are noticeably short. Dad's physical therapy has been ongoing for two months and he's pleased with it, which he doesn't say directly but which is visible in his compliance with the schedule and in how he moves on the flat ground now — steadier, more deliberate, the work of the exercises showing in the gait. He's seventy now. He does his physical therapy the same way he does everything: because it's necessary and because he decided to do it.

Made a beef and root vegetable stew Sunday — short ribs, parsnips, turnips, the last of the carrots, a full bottle of beef stock. This is the week I move from summer cooking completely. October is done. November is next. The food changes accordingly.

The stew was Sunday’s work — the short ribs, the parsnips, the last of the carrots — and it did what it was supposed to do. But the week also held other things: the piece about June, the messages that came back, Dad moving steadily down the hallway on his own two feet. When the evenings shorten this fast and the weight of what’s been accumulates this quietly, I want something in the kitchen that is warm and deliberate but not heavy. These Bourbon Vanilla Cupcakes are that thing. The bourbon is low and present, the vanilla does most of the work, and making them is the kind of task that asks just enough of you.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 12

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon fine salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons bourbon
1/2 cup whole milk, room temperature
Bourbon Vanilla Buttercream:
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
3 cups powdered sugar, sifted
2 tablespoons bourbon
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1–2 tablespoons heavy cream
Pinch of salt

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a standard 12-cup muffin tin with cupcake liners and set aside.
Mix dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.
Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and granulated sugar together on medium-high speed for 3–4 minutes until pale and fluffy.
Add eggs and flavorings. Beat in the eggs one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed. Mix in the vanilla extract and bourbon until combined.
Alternate dry and wet. With the mixer on low, add the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the milk in two additions, beginning and ending with the flour. Mix only until just combined — do not overmix.
Fill and bake. Divide the batter evenly among the lined cups, filling each about 2/3 full. Bake for 18–21 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool in the tin for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
Make the buttercream. Beat the softened butter on medium-high speed until smooth and creamy, about 2 minutes. Reduce speed to low and gradually add the sifted powdered sugar. Once incorporated, add the bourbon, vanilla, heavy cream, and salt. Increase speed to medium-high and beat for 2–3 minutes until light and fluffy.
Frost and serve. Once the cupcakes are fully cooled, frost generously with the bourbon vanilla buttercream using a piping bag or offset spatula. Serve at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Bourbon Vanilla Cupcakes — The Sweet End of a Season Turning