Sprinkles Cupcakes
It was a Saturday night in downtown Los Angeles. Trying to evade the drudgery of my law books, I skipped out for a “night on the town” with some friends in Beverly Hills. My “night[s] on the town” aren’t typical. Not the clubbing and boozing type, I usually head over to some delicious-looking find with a couple of savvy friends. I like my friends with discerning palates. But mistake me not. While I enjoy exploring the uncharted territory of my own palate, I am by no means a palate-ist. The palate-less or minimally palated make for the most amiable dinner guests and those of the discerning palate variety are often royal terrors and ingrates of the “free food” system. But this way I’m not eating incredibly slowly while making scrutinizing squinty faces at the dish all by myself. Awkwardness loves company.
This night, I and a couple of “discerning palate” types, headed over to Sprinkles Cupcakes on Little Santa Monica Boulevard. We made the fateful error of going on the Saturday of President’s Day Weekend, meaning there was a line clear down the holy block for this place; but it was worth the wait for the most part. According to the talkative lady behind us who had been there before, it gets like this sometimes. The management is wonderful though. They close at 7, but they kept their doors and the cupcakes coming long after to serve all the customers in line. One of the cupcake-istas even came out to apologize for the wait and informed us that the delay was because the cupcakes were being freshly frosted. We couldn’t argue with that. Instead, we harassed people in line singing jazz songs incorrectly in exaggerated Indian accents and found out frighteningly enough that the middle-aged Caucasian gentleman in front of us knew all the words to “I Like Big Butts” by Sir Mixalot. Not quite appropriate cupcake conversation, considering that I was here on account of the fact that cupcakes reminded me of tricycles and the sandbox. But delirium became us as weather rudely chilly for California whisked through our silly clothing and accentuated the war in our stomachs; and we resoundingly joined him in the chorus. Indeed, a proud moment for those who birthed us or contributed in some manner. If they could have only seen us girls belt crude, sexist dialogue into the streets of Beverly Hills.
When the moment of truth arrived, I bought four: (1) “Red Hot Velvet,” a traditional red velvet cupcake with untraditional spicy cinnamon frosting, (2) “Coconut,” a vanilla bourbon cupcake with vanilla frosting and shredded candied coconut, (3) “Dark Chocolate,” a Belgian dark chocolate cupcake with dark chocolate frosting and French chocolate sprinkles, (4) “Black and White,” a Belgian dark chocolate cupcake with vanilla frosting and French chocolate sprinkles. One should note, that the menu changes all the time, depending on the day, with some steady flavors and some specials (e.g., “Red Hot Velvet” and “Chocolate Marshmallow” were the specials on the night we went), so certainly check the schedule on the site if you’re having a hankering for anything in particular.
Overall, the cupcakes were delicious. But the trick, I think, to eating Sprinkles Cupcakes is to make certain to eat the frosting with the cupcake. This may seem like common sense, until you happen to taste either alone, finding each mildly disappointing in isolation from the other. The inch-thick frosting is incredibly sweet, but the cupcake is not sweet enough. This place is really not for those who like to shed their frosting after a couple of bites like I do, when it’s become overwhelming, or those who just enjoy frosting-less cupcakes. I must say, however, that the spicy cinnamon frosting on the “Red Hot Velvet” was out of this world, despite my hate of frosting. The cinnamon sweetly stung like a dozen red hots and was smoothed away softly by the red velvet cake underneath. And the “Black and White” was like a hunky Oreo, which I was very pleased with, in my search for childhood favorites. Creme or cookie, was once again the option, and at least, for that particularly cupcake, I did not mind the minimal sugar in the cupcake portion. The cake is also incredibly moist which made up in part for the lack of sweet.
A big drawback is that the cupcakes are $3.25 each. Certainly tears a more sizable hole in your pocketbook than the $4 a dozen grocery store variety! On the other hand, they are a good size. Definitely bigger than the ones that over-zealous PTA moms brought to class on their children’s birthdays. The cupcakes are also deliciously fresh, and they have both coffee and milk on the premises (the latter I think is particularly key for those sweet-overload moments, particularly with chocolate). The cupcakes were warm in the box when we received them, and true to the cupcake-ista’s words, freshly frosted, with a cute little mod candy dot that is Sprinkles’ signature. The space inside the store, however, is rather limited. The boutique cupcake shop lives up to its reputation. It is indeed boutique, having space for only about ten to twelve people at a time, who are forced to get friendly rather quick. The decor inside is fun. The “pure material palette” is playful and does make one feel like she’s entering some sort of environmentally sound, grown-up cupcake wonderland, with chrome accents, primary colors, recycled paper boxes and clever little knives and forks made out of a material that reminded me of popsicle sticks. It’s a very thoughtful establishment, that maintains excellent quality and a sense of pride in its work. Cupcakes, after all, are a very serious matter.
