Kelly Fiore works, writes, bakes, and teaches in Maryland, where she lives with her husband, son, and many, many, many cupcakes.

I was never that great science. Honestly, what I remember from 9^th grade Introduction to Chemistry and Physics is having a crush on a boy at the table in front of me and sitting next to my friend, Carrie. I’m sure we did labs, I just don’t remember any of them. The thing about baking is that it’s a lot of chemistry – allegedly. But, really, a lot of it is just feeling your way through. Sometimes it’s more about texture than quantity. Sometimes it matters how warm or cold an ingredient is. And, yes, you need measuring cups and spoons and what-not. But, really, in the end, you might have something a little too moist or a little too dry, and you eat it because you made it and it’s sweet and it’s there.

But, when you decide to share your baking with others – particularly selling to others – that acceptable consistency is no longer good enough. You pay closer attention to how much and when. You buy cake flour instead of making do with all-purpose. You spend the extra money on good ingredients – vanilla from Madagascar, organic flour, spun sugar flowers to top each perfect icing swirl.

When I decided to start Dolce Fiore Cupcakes as a farmer’s market venture, it was to give me another “something” to occupy myself during the summer when school’s out. People ask me if I love to bake – it’s not really that. I’ve got two really great recipes – one yellow and one chocolate. Each time I bake them, I adjust the flavors to create a unique new taste, such as toasted coconut, rum, espresso, and countless other variations.

Which got me thinking – why am I so lackadaisical when it comes with baking for myself, and such a perfectionist when it comes to baking for others? Don’t I deserve a near perfect product? What is it about bakers that make them say “I’ll eat the burnt one” or “Leave the overdone piece for me”?

For those of us who were raised baking, we remember the reasons most of the baking was done – occasions. Baking for other people was the biggest reason to bake at all. I have great memories of standing on a chair next to my mom, working on a batter in the ancient mixer (which is mine now, actually, and still works like new). Whether it was for a cookie swap or a party, the point was to show only the best products. Like parents show off their accomplished children, so does the baker display her most desirable delectables.

For what it’s worth, baking is both joyful and frustrating. But the product you create should be for you to enjoy as well. Personally, I think it’s essential to taste each batch of cupcakes to make sure they taste right. I don’t shove a chunk in my mouth and squirt some icing on top as an afterthought. Cupcakes, and most baking, are a lot about aesthetics. I brush off the crumbs. I ice the top with a soft-serve ice cream-esque curlicue. I sprinkle on whatever embellishment I’m using for that flavor. And I enjoy it. Because, in the end, it’s about the moment you spend eating it more than the “it” itself. The time you’ve set aside to say, “Yes. I’m indulging. What of it? It’s not like I’m drinking melted lard?!” In my humble opinion, baking is a privilege, not a right. Like spandex. If you throw a Duncan Hines mix in a bowl with the required ingredients and the end result is a perfectly respectable cake, more power to you. But that’s the paint-by-number version of baking – I wouldn’t call you Monet. Maybe Thomas Kincaid.

The chocolate recipe I use is the closest thing I have to a family heirloom and, although I’m not trying to be the Bush’s Baked Beans guy, I would never divulge the recipe. It’s just one of those things. But my Yellow Cake recipe (enclosed) is one I’ve honed from other recipes and I think it’s the closest thing to perfect that I’ve found. I think yellow cake from scratch is a lot more challenging to perfect than other flavors. I hope you’ll feel the same way about this version.

Dolce Fiore’s Yellow Cake

This is a huge batter. I’ve only used it with Jumbo Cupcake pans, of which it makes 3 dozen, but obviously it would do well in a sheet pan, spring form pan, etc.

4 cups plus 2 tablespoons cake flour (not self-rising, not all-purpose. Yes, it matters.)
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter, softened
2 cups sugar
2 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
4 large eggs, at room temperature
2 cups sour milk (2 cups milk plus 1 tbsp. White Vinegar) or buttermilk

Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease your pans (I use cooking spray I’ve made with an atomizer and canola oil.)

Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a medium bowl. In a large mixing bowl, beat butter and sugar in a large bowl with an electric mixer at medium speed until pale and fluffy, then beat in vanilla. (You should taste it at this point, if for no other reason than because it’s delicious!)

Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well and scraping down the bowl after each addition. At low speed, beat in sour milk until just combined (mixture will look curdled). Add flour mixture in three batches, mixing until each addition is just incorporated.

Spread batter evenly in cake pan, then rap pan on counter several times to eliminate air bubbles. (I like to drop mine a few times from two inches up.) Bake until golden and a wooden pick inserted in center of cake comes out clean. I’m not telling you how long. Every oven is different. You can use other cakes you bake as a ball-park, but you should be checking on this one to make sure it doesn’t over cook. Cool in pan on a rack 10 minutes, then run a knife around edge of pan. Invert onto rack and discard parchment, then cool completely, about 1 hour.