I entered Eleni’s Cupcake shop in the Chelsea Market.
Let me rephrase that: I was reeled in quickly like a line-caught trout heroically flopping away for freedom but tragically hooked by the smell of frosting and cake.
They must pump that heavenly smell above the entrance for people like me who are slaves to their salivary glands.
My inner magpie was dazzled by the bright pink store with old fashioned glass cake tiers filled with perfect tiny frosted cakes in colorful shapes and tantalizing flavors.
“Can I take a picture?”
“Only if you buy one. And only of that cupcake. Not the whole store.”
“Okay. Hmmmm… is that really McCain?… I’ll take that one.”
For some odd reason the little shop only had McCain cupcakes of the political persuasion. No Obama, no Palin, no Liberman – just McCain. I’m not sure why. Honestly I couldn’t figure out if they were celebrating him, pawning off leftovers from the RNC, or indulging customers in some twisted fantasy.
And frankly, I was sort of curious as to how they would flavor the presidential candidate.
I asked the staff, “Why McCain?” but nobody answered. They just sort of shrugged, smirked, and looked sheepishly between one another.
And yes, I could have chosen one of the vanilla cakes topped with flakes of dried coconut clear up to the sky or a strawberry one with girlish pink swirls of buttercream. But…
this was so much more satisfying.