Toll House Chocolate Chip Cupcakes

Cicadas at sundown. The porch light catching them. The neighborhood quiet at ten PM. Tuesday feeding ran clean. Sister Beulah was there at three. The chicken was dredged by four. We served from six until eight. Sister Beulah shooed me out at nine-thirty.

Calvin preached Sunday on the woman at the well. The church said amen. I talked to Mama at the stove. I told her the recipe was right. I told her the kitchen was holding. The cast iron skillet hummed.

Banana pudding Saturday. Nilla wafers layered like sedimentary rock. The custard from scratch — yes, baby, from scratch, none of that boxed nonsense.

The kitchen held, sugar. The chain extends. Amen.

I made coffee at five Tuesday morning. Strong, with cream, no sugar (the diabetes). I stood at the kitchen window. The yard was still in dark. The day ahead was the day ahead. I went into it.

I have been thinking about heaven a lot lately. I do not know what I think. I know what Calvin preaches. I know what the AME doctrine says. I know what my Mama believed. I am at the age, sugar, where heaven is more than a Sunday school answer. I am working on it.

Bernice's Table Tuesday. The team was sharp. The food held. The room held.

My knees were bad this week. I sat between rounds at the stove. The volunteers tried to take the spoon. I would not let them. The spoon is not negotiable, sugar.

Doris called Thursday. Three times a week, the standard. We talked about Calvin's health. We talked about Harold's health. We talked about the family. We talked about what I was cooking.

I had a small cry Wednesday morning at the kitchen window. No reason in particular. The grief comes when it comes. I made coffee. I went on. That is how this works.

A young woman from the new members class came to me Sunday. She was nervous. She said, Mother Simms, my husband and I are expecting our first and I do not know how to cook. I said, baby, come to the Saturday class. She said, I'm coming. The chain extends.

I sat on the porch Saturday afternoon. The neighborhood was quiet. Mr. Henderson across the street waved. I waved back. The porches are the original social network, sugar. We have been at this since Eden.

The garden in the side yard, sugar. The tomatoes are coming on. The okra is up. The collards are getting big. I will be canning by August. I always say I am not going to can. I always end up canning.

Sister Patrice's husband had heart surgery this week. I drove a meal over Tuesday — chicken and rice, cornbread, peach cobbler. She cried at the door. I told her, baby, eat the food. The food was the saying.

I stood at the kitchen window with my coffee Tuesday morning. Six o'clock. The light just coming. The yard quiet. Talking to Mama about the day ahead. The talking is its own prayer, sugar.

A new young wife joined the Saturday cooking class. Twenty-two years old. She does not know how to make rice. I will teach her. The chain extends.

I read for an hour Sunday night before bed. The Bible, then a book Doris sent me about the civil rights movement in Birmingham. The book made me think about Bernice in the church kitchen during the bombings.

I drove to the grocery Saturday morning. Greens, three pounds. Onions, two big ones. Buttermilk, half gallon. Cornmeal, the good kind. Salt, because I always run out of salt.

I mentioned the banana pudding, sugar, and yes — that is its own Sunday afternoon religion and we will get to it another time. But what I set out for the Saturday cooking class, what I put in front of that twenty-two-year-old who does not yet know how to make rice, are these Toll House Chocolate Chip Cupcakes — because everybody, everybody, deserves to feel a win in the kitchen early. You start her on something that smells like home and comes out right, and you have her for life. That is how the chain extends, baby. That is the whole point.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 22 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 24 cupcakes

Ingredients

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 cup whole buttermilk
2 cups Nestlé Toll House semi-sweet chocolate chips, divided
For the chocolate buttercream:
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
3 cups powdered sugar, sifted
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
3–4 tbsp whole milk
1 tsp vanilla extract
Pinch of salt

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Line two standard 12-cup muffin tins with paper liners and set aside.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
Cream the butter and sugars. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter, granulated sugar, and brown sugar together with a hand or stand mixer on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 3–4 minutes. Do not rush this step — the air you build here is what lifts the cupcake.
Add eggs and vanilla. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in the vanilla extract until fully combined.
Alternate wet and dry. With the mixer on low, add the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the buttermilk in two additions (flour, buttermilk, flour, buttermilk, flour). Begin and end with the flour. Mix until just combined — do not overmix.
Fold in the chips. Gently fold in 1 1/2 cups of the chocolate chips with a rubber spatula, reserving 1/2 cup for topping.
Fill and bake. Divide the batter evenly among the prepared liners, filling each about 2/3 full. Scatter a few of the reserved chips on top of each. Bake for 20–22 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean with just a crumb or two. Do not overbake — pull them when they are just done.
Cool completely. Let the cupcakes rest in the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack and cool completely before frosting. Frosting a warm cupcake is the one mistake I will not let slide in my class.
Make the buttercream. Beat the softened butter on medium-high until pale and creamy, about 2 minutes. Add the sifted powdered sugar and cocoa powder one cup at a time, mixing on low after each addition. Add the vanilla, a pinch of salt, and 3 tablespoons of milk. Beat on medium-high for 2–3 minutes until fluffy. Add the remaining tablespoon of milk only if needed to reach a spreadable consistency.
Frost and serve. Pipe or spread the chocolate buttercream onto each cooled cupcake. Top with a few extra chocolate chips if you like. Serve at room temperature. These keep, covered, at room temperature for up to 2 days — though they have never lasted that long in my kitchen.

Nutrition (per serving)

Toll House Chocolate Chip Cupcakes — What I Bring to the Saturday Class