Cupcakes: Butter Lane

All the Time / Butter Lane (7th and A) / Whenever

Why hasn't anyone yet invented an application for a cupcake place finder? Don't pretend like you wouldn't love it. You know you've been in the situation when --BAM!-- all of the sudden you want, no, MUST HAVE a cupcake or the world as you know it will surely end. The craving gnaws at your soul from the inside cutting off your ability to feel, to think, to breathe. You struggle to contain yourself thinking: New...York..loads...of..cupcakes..if..only..there..was..cupcake finder..for..iphones...
Just before you go insane and crumple lifeless down to the cold, dead concrete under the sheer force of sugary desire, you see it, a mirage at first, a yellow blur materializing on the horizon. Is it the sun? Ha! There's no sun in New York. Darn, must be Heaven. No! Unless the sun flutters in the wind, thine eyes doth not deceive for you see a flag of purest gold on which is written the sweetest words that touch your parched lips with a faint kiss of the delight to come, "Butter Lane." The words bring hope and new life to your soul as you stride into what you now believe to be Heaven's foyer.

Unlike those other cupcake places in New York (Crumbs and Magnolia have now slutted themselves out to Midtown and the Financial District boosting sales to wide-eyed tourists and angry bankers), Butter Lane presents a picket-fence sort of charm that has transformative powers even in the heart of a sometimes dingy but nevertheless thriving East Village. Pleasant Surprise # 1: The chalk board easel resting outside of an open door sings, "Cupcakes make you smile." Well, actually, chalkboards with pretty pink cursive letters that read "Cupcakes make you smile" makes you smile first, as I surely did. It reminded me of a what a little kid's lemonade stand would have looked like in medieval times--the two pronged flag proclaiming their imaginary business as busy merchants pass by with Oriental rugs and pungent spices.


Across the threshold, Butter Lane's cupboard-sized space greets you with such tantalizing smells that you can almost see the scents, pastel pinks and purples and yellows and greens hovering over you, beckoning with their ethereal fingers to come, taste, indulge. Three steps bring you face to--er--face with Pleasant Surprise #2: free samples (weee!) of icing because they offer Pleasant Surprise # 3: two different styles of icing. The American style is made with confectioner's sugar while the French style is made with regular sugar. This may seem like one of life's most bestest things ever until you realize they both taste like magic. Conveniently, BL has a box for two cupcakes since indecision is a common side effect of the free samples. And even though you can get a Big Mac for the price of one cupcake at BL, rest assured that that one (or two) cupcake packs more antioxidants, vitamins and cancer fighting voodoo than McD's could hope to squeeze into a so-called premium salad. Cough..okay so maybe that's what I tell myself, but BL does use all organic ingredients from local farms (NJ is the Garden State for a reason, you know.)

My first visit to BL was on a lazy Saturday with Seth and Elizabeth. Elizabeth demurely ordered one while Seth and I sweated profusely in an effort to narrown down our choices. One cupcake, quickly turned into "I'll get one, you get one and we'll spilt one" which quickly became "oh there is a convenient box for four? okay, you get two, I'll get two and we'll split them all". Fat.

Oh, but to have one sweet taste of Butter Lane's cupcakes is to know life! The term "cupcake" almost seems an insult to the perfection that Butter Lane sells, but then again, my human knowledge of the English language is too limiting to create a worthy term. Seth and I decided to start at the very beginning, a very nice place to start: chocolate french on vanilla, chocolate american on vanilla, vanilla american on vanilla, vanilla french on vanilla. Pleasant Surprise # 4: manageable cupcake sizes meant that having two entire cupcakes is not completely overwhelming (especially for me, who could and has easily downed four or five in one 24 hour period). We accompained our cupcake cornucopia with frothy cappucinos at the nearest cafe we could find with plush seating and dark corners, perfect for stuffing oneself. I wish I could say that we savored each bite with all the sophistication of an art lover adirming his or her first glimpse of Dejeuner Sur L'Herbe at the D'Orsay; but, we acted more like kids who don't know any better than to gulp down pure perfection in one swallow. Nevertheless, I can recall each bite with an all-too-vivid play-by-play, or shall I say bite-by-bite? (giggle--cupcakes DO make you laugh!) The cake was the most moist, most buttery cupcake base to ever tiptoe across my taste buds. Each time I bit into a perfect ratio of cake to icing, a spongy blanket of butter embraced my tongue before a silky cloud of light but rich icing came to rest on top. Together, the flavors danced a slow, passionate tango in tribute to sugar, and maybe, God Himself. Close eyes, open mouth, insert cupcake, satisfy craving, repeat.

So, if you find yourself in the East Village, like, ever, you don't need a Google Cupcakes to find Butter Lane. Just look for a quaint yellow flag and emanating pastel rays of sunshine, happiness and joy... and if that doesn't work, just look for me. There is a 99% chance that I will be there, at Heaven's foyer, with a box of New York's finest cupcakes in one hand and a cupcake for the road in the other, all the while thanking God--who must be somewhere nearby--for life's yummiest pleasures.