Memorial Day weekend. The first one since 2017 that hasn't been entirely overshadowed by grief—not because the grief is gone, but because the grief is mine now, part of me, the way a scar is part of you, and you can feel the weight of a weekend like this without being pulled under by it. The block party happened again. I went this year. Miss Harris was at the door with a plate before I'd walked ten feet and she hugged me for a long time and I hugged her back and we stood there in the May sunshine and let the hug be what it was: two women who have both survived things, holding onto each other briefly in a neighborhood they both love.
I brought food to the block party. This is significant—this is the first time since 2017 that I have cooked for this event—and I brought the sweet potato pie because the sweet potato pie is the thing I am known for in this neighborhood the way Bernice was known for it in Bessemer, and showing up with the pie is showing up as yourself, as the full, undiminished version of yourself who bakes sweet potato pie for the neighborhood even in years when the neighborhood has held unbearable things. I brought two pies. They were gone by noon. The third time this month that something I made was gone faster than seemed possible. I take this as information.
CJ called this weekend and mentioned, almost casually, that he's been offered a permanent position at a defense contractor in Huntsville—not a contract position but a senior project manager role, salaried, with benefits and a retirement plan—and that he's going to take it. He said this like it was a small thing. It is not a small thing. My oldest child is settling down, putting down roots in Alabama, in Huntsville—the city of rockets and research and HBCUs, the city I could not have imagined for him when he was born and that I can imagine for him completely now that he is a man of twenty-five with a career and an apartment and a life being built, steadily, the way his father builds sermons and his mother builds food: one good element at a time, trusting the accumulation.
The sweet potato pies were gone by noon, and I had nothing left to offer but myself—which, I suppose, was always the point. In the days after the block party, I kept thinking about what it means to bring food to people as an act of declaration: I am here, I am well enough, I have something to give. These honey lemon cupcakes are in that same spirit—bright and generous, the kind of thing you frost carefully because the people receiving them deserve that care, the kind of thing that disappears fast and means you did something right.
Honey Lemon Cupcakes with Honey Cream Cheese Frosting
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 18 min | Total Time: 38 min | Servings: 24 cupcakes
Ingredients
- 1 package (15.25 oz) white cake mix
- 3 large eggs
- 1/2 cup sour cream
- 1/3 cup honey
- 1/3 cup vegetable oil
- 1/4 cup whole milk
- 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
- 1 tablespoon lemon zest
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- Honey Cream Cheese Frosting:
- 8 oz cream cheese, softened
- 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
- 3 tablespoons honey
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- 1 teaspoon lemon zest
- 3 to 3 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
- Pinch of salt
Instructions
- Preheat and prep. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line two standard 12-cup muffin tins with paper liners and set aside.
- Mix the batter. In a large bowl, combine cake mix, eggs, sour cream, honey, oil, milk, lemon juice, lemon zest, and vanilla extract. Beat with a hand mixer on medium speed for 2 minutes until smooth and well combined.
- Fill and bake. Divide batter evenly among the 24 prepared cups, filling each about 2/3 full. Bake for 16—18 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and tops are just set.
- Cool completely. Remove cupcakes from the pan after 5 minutes and transfer to a wire rack. Allow to cool completely before frosting—at least 30 minutes.
- Make the frosting. Beat cream cheese and butter together on medium-high speed until fluffy and smooth, about 3 minutes. Add honey, lemon juice, lemon zest, and salt; beat to combine. Gradually add powdered sugar, 1/2 cup at a time, beating on low until incorporated, then on medium until frosting is light and spreadable. Adjust consistency with additional powdered sugar as needed.
- Frost and serve. Pipe or spread frosting generously onto each cooled cupcake. Garnish with a thin strip of lemon zest if desired. Arrange on a platter and bring them somewhere they’ll be appreciated.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 285 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 41g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 210mg