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I'm not--to my knowledge--Irish, and won't be joining the green-beer-swilling masses*, but the combination of Guinness, Baileys, chocolate, and cupcakes is too much for me to resist.
Car bomb cupcakes
They're in the oven right now, but I can give the batter two very enthusiastic thumbs up. (The rest of the bottle of Guinness isn't hurting the enthusiasm any.) The simmering pan of butter, chocolate and stout is truly terrifying to behold. Soon I'll start on the icing, (skipping the ganache) and combine still more booze with dairy fat. Then I will take a pan of these to work, because they certainly can't be allowed to stay in the house
I need a food porn icon.
ETA: The cupcakes are fabulous, but it's the icing that rocks socks. I think I gain a pound every time I look at it, though.
*But I am obnoxious enough to blare House of Pain all over the place.
Car bomb cupcakes
They're in the oven right now, but I can give the batter two very enthusiastic thumbs up. (The rest of the bottle of Guinness isn't hurting the enthusiasm any.) The simmering pan of butter, chocolate and stout is truly terrifying to behold. Soon I'll start on the icing, (skipping the ganache) and combine still more booze with dairy fat. Then I will take a pan of these to work, because they certainly can't be allowed to stay in the house
I need a food porn icon.
ETA: The cupcakes are fabulous, but it's the icing that rocks socks. I think I gain a pound every time I look at it, though.
*But I am obnoxious enough to blare House of Pain all over the place.
