Caramel Apple Cupcakes

Our fifth wedding anniversary. Five years since the courthouse in Jacksonville. Five years since pulled pork and Spotify and Mom's red velvet cake baked at 6 AM. We celebrated at home (always at home — the restaurant tradition happened once; the home tradition won). I made the anniversary dinner: Soo-Jin's Korean short ribs (because they changed everything), Mom's scalloped potatoes (because they're elegant), and a slice of red velvet cake (because the wedding cake was red velvet). Ryan gave me a card. Not from a store — handmade. Hand-WRITTEN. Inside, in his Marine handwriting (block letters, precise, the penmanship of a man trained in briefings): 'Five years. Two kids. Two books. Five duty stations. One kitchen. One you. I'd do it all again. Every time. — R' Every time. The same answer I gave at the Italian restaurant three years ago. He stole my line. I love him for it. Caleb asked, 'What's an anniversary?' 'It's the birthday of when Mama and Daddy got married.' 'Married means you COOK TOGETHER?' '...Yes, Caleb. Married means you cook together.' (He's not wrong. Marriage IS cooking together. It's standing at the same stove, sharing the same meals, adjusting to the same oven. Marriage is learning someone's food — their cravings, their comforts, their 'I need pot roast' nights and their 'I can't eat anything' nights. Marriage is dinner at 1800, every night, for the rest of your life.) Five years. Five duty stations: Norfolk (childhood), Lejeune, Pendleton (first time), Twentynine Palms, Pendleton (second time). San Diego coming. The short ribs were perfect. They're always perfect now. Soo-Jin's recipe, in my hands, at my table, for the man I married five years ago at a courthouse in Jacksonville. Happy anniversary, Ryan. The ring was panic. The meatloaf is love. The short ribs are everything in between. And the cooking together — that's the whole marriage.

The short ribs were Soo’jin’s — and they’re not mine to share, not yet, maybe not ever; some recipes are borrowed in the eating and kept in the memory. But the dessert table at an anniversary dinner is always negotiable, and this year I put caramel apple cupcakes next to the red velvet slice, because something about the warmth of cooked apple and dark caramel felt exactly right for a fifth year — layered, a little complicated, and better than you expected. Caleb ate two. Ryan didn’t say a word, just reached for the second before the first one was gone. That’s the review I needed.

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 12 cupcakes

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp fine salt
2 large eggs, room temperature
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup neutral vegetable oil
1/2 cup unsweetened applesauce
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 cup finely diced peeled apple (about 1 medium; Honeycrisp or Granny Smith)
Caramel Buttercream:
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
3 tbsp thick caramel sauce, plus more for drizzling
1–2 tbsp heavy cream
Pinch of flaky sea salt

Instructions

Preheat. Heat oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a standard 12-cup muffin tin with paper liners.
Mix dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Set aside.
Mix wet ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk eggs and granulated sugar until pale and slightly thickened, about 1 minute. Whisk in oil, applesauce, and vanilla until smooth and fully combined.
Combine. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir gently with a spatula until just combined — do not overmix. Fold in the diced apple.
Fill and bake. Divide batter evenly among prepared liners, filling each about 3/4 full. Bake 18–20 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the tops spring back lightly when touched.
Cool completely. Transfer cupcakes to a wire rack and cool completely before frosting, at least 30 minutes. Frosting warm cupcakes will melt the buttercream.
Make the caramel buttercream. Beat softened butter with a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium speed until pale and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add powdered sugar one cup at a time, beating on low after each addition. Add caramel sauce and 1 tbsp heavy cream; beat on medium-high 2 minutes until smooth and spreadable. Add the second tbsp of cream if needed to reach a pipeable consistency. Season with a pinch of flaky salt.
Frost and finish. Pipe or spread caramel buttercream onto cooled cupcakes. Drizzle each with additional caramel sauce and, if desired, finish with a small pinch of flaky sea salt.

Nutrition (per serving)

Caramel Apple Cupcakes — The Sweet End to Five Perfect Years