Lemon Coconut Cupcakes — The Taste of Light Returning

Another week. Another set of sunrises over Lake Superior. Another set of meals cooked for one and eaten at a table set for two. The two-place setting is the thing the kids have stopped commenting on. They used to remark when they came to visit. They used to gently suggest, in the way grown children gently suggest, that perhaps it was time to set just one. Now they set their own additional plates around mine and they let Paul's plate be Paul's plate. The setting is the love. The setting is the staying. Elsa called from Voyageurs. She had a sighting of a wolf — a single gray adult crossing a frozen bay at dawn, fifty yards from her cabin. She had a sighting of a moose two days later. She is happy in the woods. I am glad someone in this family is happy in the woods. I have always loved Lake Superior, but the deeper woods are not for me. Elsa is for the deeper woods. The match is right. Anna sent photos from Minneapolis — the kids in their school uniforms, David's new bookshelf, the dog (their dog, not mine; their dog is named Cooper, and Cooper is a Bernese mountain dog who weighs more than Anna and who is, by all accounts, the most relaxed dog in the upper Midwest). I printed three of the photos and put them on the fridge. The fridge holds the family that is not currently in the kitchen. I cooked Lemon herb chicken this week. Chicken thighs marinated in lemon juice, olive oil, garlic, oregano, thyme, salt, pepper. Roasted at 425 until the skin is crisp. Served with rice and a green salad. Bright. Clean. The taste of light returning. Thursday at Damiano. I brought a tray of pepparkakor — the second batch from the Christmas freezer, brought back to crispness in a low oven. They were eaten in fifteen minutes. The cookies are not the soup. The cookies are the extra. The extra is the message: you are worth the effort of cookies. Most of the world does not give the people who come to Damiano the message that they are worth the effort of cookies. The cookies are doing political work. I dreamed about Paul last night. The dream was specific: we were at the lake, in the canoe, fishing for trout. He was teaching me the right way to cast (he was always trying to teach me; I never quite got the rhythm; I caught fish anyway, by accident, with embarrassing regularity). In the dream he was patient and present and entirely himself. I woke up at 4 AM. I made coffee. I sat in the kitchen. The dream was a visit. I have learned to receive the visits without reaching for them. They come when they come. It is enough. Paul is not here. Mamma is not here. Pappa is not here. Erik is not here. They are all here in the kitchen, in the smell, in the taste, in the wooden spoon and the bread pans and the marble slab. The dead are not where the body went. The dead are in the kitchen. The seasons in Duluth are unsubtle. The winter is long and white and dark. The spring is reluctant. The summer is glorious and brief. The fall is brilliant and quick. The unsubtlety is a kind of honesty. The seasons do not pretend to be other than what they are. They give you what they give you. They take what they take. The kitchen, in response, does what it does — soup in winter, salads in summer, pies in fall, bread always. It is enough.

The lemon herb chicken I roasted this week reminded me why I reach for citrus in the dark months — that clean, sharp brightness that tastes like something starting rather than ending. When the light came through the kitchen window on Saturday morning and the coffee was still hot, I wanted to carry that feeling one step further, into something I could share. These lemon coconut cupcakes are exactly that: the same honest brightness in a form small enough to carry in a tray, light enough to feel like a message. Paul would have eaten three before I finished frosting them. I baked them anyway.

Lemon Coconut Cupcakes

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 12 cupcakes

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 2 large eggs, room temperature
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 1 tablespoon lemon zest (from about 2 lemons)
• 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/2 cup whole milk
• 3/4 cup sweetened shredded coconut
• For the frosting:
• 8 oz cream cheese, softened
• 2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 1 teaspoon lemon zest
• 1/2 cup toasted shredded coconut, for topping

Instructions

1. Preheat and prepare. Heat oven to 350°F. Line a 12-cup muffin tin with paper liners and set aside.
2. Whisk dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.
3. Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and granulated sugar with a hand mixer on medium-high until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
4. Add eggs and flavorings. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then mix in the lemon juice, lemon zest, and vanilla extract until combined.
5. Alternate wet and dry. With the mixer on low, add the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the milk in two additions, beginning and ending with flour. Mix only until just combined — do not overmix.
6. Fold in coconut. Gently fold in the 3/4 cup shredded coconut with a spatula.
7. Fill and bake. Divide batter evenly among the lined cups, filling each about 2/3 full. Bake 18–20 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and tops are just golden. Cool in the pan 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely before frosting.
8. Make the frosting. Beat cream cheese until smooth. Add powdered sugar, lemon juice, and lemon zest and beat on medium until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes.
9. Frost and finish. Spread or pipe frosting generously onto cooled cupcakes. Top each with a pinch of toasted coconut. Serve at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 370 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 50g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 185mg