Sweet

On a blistery Boston winter's day, amidst the last-minute dashes for teddy bears and jewelry, I surpassed the crowds of Newbury Street to celebrate Valentine's Day with my one true love: the cupcake.


For my first bakery I chose Sweet, mainly because I had seen it before and needed somewhere to start. And quite frankly it's just the cutest little place I've ever seen.

As you can see, Sweet is nestled in traditional Newbury Street fashion: that is, it's nearly impossible to spot from more than a few doors down and rests above another business, in this instance a pizza place.

It smells so good in here, I thought to myself, nearly crumbling at the aroma of baked deliciousness upon entering Sweet. And can we talk about the wallpaper? It's pink, it's adorable, it's perfect. To be honest, I forgot that people still used wallpaper, but Tim Gunn would be impressed with the way they make it work.

After recovering from my olefactory blackout, I joined the (surprisingly) lengthy line to scout out my cupcake of choice. To say I did this task alone, however, would be cruel and misleading. To be honest, if you want to enjoy your cupcake at Sweet rather than take some home in a box (and not one of those tacky white boxes that are harnessed with the same string you would use to secure a kayak to the roof your dad's station wagon. I'm talking classy boxes with ribbons and design), you need to lay claim to one of 3 tables available. My partner in crime grabbed a table while I took care of the ordering. Luckily, I know him well enough to see a red velvet cupcake and look no further. For myself, I chose the traditional Sweet Cake, a vanilla cup with a generous dollop of chocolate buttercream frosting that looks as though God himself came and said "this is frosting, and it is mightily tasty."  Of course, my choice was not easy, because Sweet is essentially a utopia of cupcakes, offering everything from Hot Cocoa Cake to Carrot Cake. I mean look at it all!

And just when I was approaching the end of cupcake heaven and about to pay (while adding a tea and coffee), I noticed the novelty to end all novelties.

Sweet offers shots of frosting. Yeah. For $.50 you can get a paper-cup shot glass of frosting, either vanilla or chocolate. And for $1.25 you can get the very same shot in an edible chocolate shot glass. Are you serious? How could I not buy one? If not for how insanely cute they were then for value alone! I'm pretty sure the average price of a candy bar is around 80 cents now, and no candy bar could possibly satisfy me the way a shot of Sweet frosting would, and for 50 cents! Life is good.

And now for the actual experience. Again, in Newbury Street fashion, Sweet is not the largest of places. In fact, it's not even the medium-est of places. This makes it difficult to sit down and really enjoy yourself, because even if you manage to get a seat, the line is right behind you, so you feel as though you are in the way or something. And unfortunately, Sweet's use of paper plates, cups, and utensils made me feel momentarily as if I were at a child's birthday party.



I suppose what really matters is the actual cupcake, the product, the goods. Although on the smaller side, my Sweet Cake was to die for. It would satisfy any sweet tooth, but wouldn't overwhelm the novice. They're not so bad to look at, either:

Simply adorable.  It is comforting to know that someone else in the world appreciates the cupcake as much as I do. I feel far more rational devoting half of my subject matter on this blog to the cupcake after visiting Sweet.
And hey, Sweet also has PupCakes for $1. Your dog can eat cupcakes now, too! Use that as justification to stop by mid-puppy walk.

Criticisms aside, Sweet is the epitome of a new trend in Americana: the upscale cupcakery. Here's to overcoming the V-Day slump!