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Cupcake Wars

Sure, frozen yogurt has its following. And bacon certainly has been enjoying its 15 minutes. Even salted chocolate has become the sweet-and-savory treat du jour.

But nothing – really, nothing – holds a (birthday) candle to the power of cupcakes. Recession-defying, neologism-inspiring, veritable cultural movement-spawning, these bitty baked goods are more than a mere culinary trend – they’re a national obsession.

And paradoxical as it may be, the city fixated on all things thin has had no problem admitting that cupcakes hit the sweet spot. In part because during a period of economic strife, the treats are an affordable luxury, bits of nostalgia that hark back a simpler time. But also because they provide an oh-so-chic excuse to eat sugar (with a healthy helping of butter, no less). The relish for red velvet grows each day.

And here to feed that need is a committed crop of pastry pros, men and women who toil in the name of shrunken treat perfection. They’re groundbreakers, tastemakers, and well, cake-bakers, a motley crew unified by fervor for frosting. 944 steps in to the kitchen with a few purveyors to discuss bringing sexy back to baking, and why Angelenos should have their (cup)cake and eat it, too.

THE PIONEERS
Mia & Jason Bauer, Crumbs

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” says Mia Bauer. “I could eat sugar all day.” Call it a fortunate affliction – that problem proved the brainchild that led Bauer to establish the little bakeshop known as Crumbs in 2003. Originally a single brick and mortar on New York’s Upper West Side, the company – co-founded with Mia’s husband, Jason – has since grown to include 26 locations, with more on the way. Known for the scope of its success and supersized offerings, Crumbs has become the unequivocal the king of cupcake-centric bakeries.

And call it unprecedented, too. Crumbs number one boasted a full-scale bakeshop, but “in the first week, we knew that cupcakes were what customers were really looking for,” Mia says. That was six years ago, a time long predating the mini cake as trend item, let alone America’s sweetheart. “We were very pleasantly surprised that people wanted more cupcakes.” Little did they realize that those early yearnings were the bellwether of a dessert revolution.

On the national level, cupcakes became – and still are – a ubiquitous and inexpensive status symbol, fluffy numbers devoured in times of prosperity and poverty alike. On the Bauer front, Crumbs expanded – to Connecticut, New Jersey, and a slew of locations in New York – and in 2006, the couple took their cakes to the West Coast. “Especially in New York and LA, the clientele really know what they’re looking for. They’re foodies,” Mia says. “I had all these visions that people would be so nice [in LA], and that was definitely the experience.” Nice, and apparently hungry, as the epicurean enthusiasm for Crumbs’s goods provoked four more openings in SoCal. “It was sort of a dream come true,” she says.

And some would call the original inspiration downright – albeit accidentally – clairvoyant. “I think a lot of the decisions we’ve made were based on what I wanted to eat,” Mia, who has no formal culinary training, admits. “I love, love, love cupcakes and I remember saying to Jason I definitely want big, luxurious, creamy, gourmet cupcakes.” Quite the premonitory sweet teeth, Bauers. “What we created in 2003 has now created the standard for cupcakes,” Jason maintains. But, asserts his wife, “we had no idea that it was going to take off the way that it did.”

Their signature standard is oxymoronically behemoth, a nearly four-inch high indulgence available in “probably hundreds of varieties,” according to Jason, from Oreo to pumpkin to the Crumbs take on the Hostess original. “I’m a huge frosting fan,” says Mia, who calls her icing-laden and -filled delights “yummy, creative” and chock full of happiness. Jason rounds out the descriptors with “inspiring, fulfilling” – and though he avoids the term recession-proof, “it’s pretty close to that,” he concedes. “You might not go out with your family for a hundred dollar meal, but you will bring home the six-pack of cupcakes and you’ll be just as happy.”

“It’s not a trend, it’s a staple now,” declares Mia of the mini-delicacies (which, by the way, account for 75% of the company’s business). And though Crumbs long ago hit the culinary map, the Bauers contend they still can’t get enough of their goods. “I have had a few too many white chocolate cupcakes this week,” says Mia with equal parts lamentation and pride. Call it a necessary sacrifice.

THE PATRIARCH
William “Chip” Brown, Big Man Bakes

For a man from a world unconnected to cupcakes, William Brown sure throws around pastry parlance like it ain’t no thang. “Now that I work at a cupcakery, I gotta do salad instead of fries,” he explains while scanning a menu. “I want the fries but I can’t do the fries, because I have to taste my cupcakes every day.”

These are unexpected words coming from the 230-pound Brown, a 6’5” titan who by all means looks more bodyguard than baker. His professional background includes neither, but his resume makes for an equally varied read: At one point immersed in the political arena, Brown – who goes by Chip – later delved into med school and eventually left for a tech startup before deciding that, actually, a cupcakery might be just the thing. “It feels amazing,” says Brown, the owner of Downtown LA’s recently-opened Big Man Bakes. “It’s not something I ever saw coming but, wow, is it wonderful now that I’m here.”

And while his work history is more pills than pastry, jack-of-all-trades Brown is no cupcake newcomer. Motivated by what he refers to as his “selfish dating prowess,” Brown began baking during college. “There were some beautiful young ladies who didn’t have anyone to celebrate their birthday…so I said ‘hey, how about I bake you a cake and bring it over later?’” (It worked.)

A couple of decades and a whole lot of “cake love” later, big man Brown has turned his woman bait into a bona fide business – and he brings that same sensual thrust to the storefront. “If I can make your eyes roll back and your toes curl with a cupcake, I’ve done something,” he says. “I see the eyes and the toes and I think, I got you.”

Achieving an exceptional cupcake, however, takes more than just heart. “It’s a love thing, it’s an art thing – but also it’s a science thing,” he explains, and suddenly, the medicine/mini-cake parallel becomes clear. It was a matter of research for Brown, of a kitchen-turned-sugar lab – and after much trial and error, the red velvet nonpareil. “I got it at 2 in the morning and I will not forget it. It was a eureka moment. I was by myself and I was rejoicing with my cupcake in hand, uplifted to the sky, like, ‘Yes! This is it.’”

Now Brown says “it” is more a matter of intuition, his moist miniatures kept consistent by reining in analysis. “If I start to over think it, I’m afraid I’ll lose my knack for what I know is good.” Thus far, though, he doesn’t seem too worried. “It is a superior cupcake in a world of some mediocre offerings,” Brown states matter-of-factly of his vanilla, chocolate, coconut, carrot, black & white and, of course, red velvet selection. “That’s what defines [Big Man Bakes].”

And Big Man Bakes, it seems, also defines Brown, granting him the enviable freedom “to be more of who I am as a whole person than any of the other professions have allowed.” Which means a mixture of creativity and intellectual curiosity joined by his passion for people, all topped with Brown’s perennial confidence. “I don’t need you to love all the flavors. But if I get you on one flavor – one,” he warns, “then I own you. That’s it.”

THE PURIST
Susan Sarich, SusieCakes

When it comes to cupcake creation, there’s one question Susan Sarich always asks herself: Would Grandma serve this? “If the answer is no, it’s not going on the menu,” says Sarich, the owner of bakery mini-chain, SusieCakes. Described by Sarich as “old school,” the guiding principle helps keep her semi-eponymous shops true to their all-American roots. “It’s very back to basics,” she says. “I like to keep things simple. Simple is better, always.”

It’s a contentious mantra, certainly, but for SusieCakes, it’s proven the sweet key to success. In four years, the company has amassed as many locations in Southern California, with a fifth planned for San Francisco in early 2010. “There were a lot of people saying ‘you’re crazy, no one’s gonna buy this stuff. No one’s going to eat anything with butter,’” recalls Sarich. “But I just never listened to the naysayers, because I knew in my heart that it would be a viable concept.”

That concept is one built on the neighborhood bakeshop of yore, “where the guy behind the counter knew your name, and you’d go with your mom to the dry cleaners and then get your smiley face cookie.” At SusieCakes, however, it very well may be Sarich who knows regulars’ names, and what they’re requesting is cupcakes. “I want to be behind the counter in every store taking every order,” she says – and while short of cloning she can’t be, Sarich has trained her staff to place a premium on customer service. “It’s genuine for us, and I think that people get that feeling when they come in here.”

But when it comes to SusieCakes’s cult following, the proof is in the pudding…and pies, and cookies. And definitely, most definitely, in the cupcakes. “They’re uncomplicated,” says Sarich of her mini wonders. “They’re straightforward and they’re all-American. Betty Crockeresque is another [term] I use.” And then, after a brief pause: “But better.”

They’re also Sarich’s gateway dessert, the means for reeling in to-be-loyal clientele. “It starts with people coming in for a snack, for a cupcake,” she says, and before they know it, they’re ordering celebratory cakes left, right and anniversary. “Once they see the quality of the product, they’re more inclined to say ‘Oh, I’m going to get the sheet cake for Bobby’s birthday.’” If SusieCakes all sounds a little too sugar and spice, consider this: those seemingly innocuous cupcakes are like the alcohol of the baked goods world. They’re a mere introduction to something bigger, badder and more expensive.

And what better addiction to develop than to a finger-full-o-frosting-licking good, cup-sized cake? The flavors are traditional (chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, the like), the ingredients spare (flour, butter, sugar, eggs), and the effect is, in Sarich’s words, “the real deal,” (duly noted). “People say ‘it looks like a bake sale, they look like cupcakes my mom would make,’” she relays. “That’s a compliment to me.”

There is one point of differentiation, however, in the form of a frosting-filled center, a little icing surprise mid-cake for the supersweet tooth in each of us. Just don’t go thinking you’ll one day find something wild on a SusieCakes shelf.

“I don’t want it to look like a pastry chef created it,” asserts Sarich, whose cupcake crazy-flavor scale taps out at chocolate mint. “There’s no ginger in the apple pie…and there is no lavender-infused cupcake.” Grandma simply wouldn’t stand for it.

-S. Brahney