The curlicue is coy. Its loops suggest a coil, smile, or Slinky. And yet, many a cupcake fan worries, What does it mean? Is there a message entwined in the white-on-black cursive?
The home baker can decrypt her cakes, shaping the loops into letters, the letters into words. But once she has unspooled the string, she may twist herself into knots. Haiku permits three lines, 17 syllables. Vast terrain compared to the cupcake: one word, two sticky inches.
What to choose? Love seems obvious. Especially when applied to devil’s food cake shot through with meringue and doused in chocolate. At four letters, with no i’s to dot or t’s to cross, the message matches the medium.
Still, the single-serve snack is personal. My survey turned up: happy, peace, climb, go, sweet, strive, buzz, mmmm. And, from Mom: sangfroid. Piping bag in hand, I paused to consider the word’s nine letters, its pesky i, its chill composure. Sorry, I shrugged. Too long.
