A hundred and forty cupcakes for a school event starting at eight in the morning, for an audience of six year olds and their teachers.
Two decisions made this one work. The first was no nuts anywhere: the kitchen was cleared of them for two days, the toppers were sugar rather than chocolate, and the committee was given that in writing so they could answer parents without ringing us. The second was no piped buttercream. A hundred and forty piped cupcakes handled by small children in a hall at eight in the morning is a hundred and forty pieces of icing on the floor, so they were finished flat with a sugar disc instead.
Baked across two days, boxed in twelves, and delivered at half past seven with a spare box of six, which is a habit rather than a favour. Somebody always drops one.
The committee has ordered the same thing twice since, which is the only review that counts.
