#prohibition bakery

[book-warehouse-broadway]

This should be illegal.

Prohibition Bakery by Leslie Feinberg and Brooke Siem

[chebellaprimavera]

Prohibition Bakery | Assorted Boozy Cupcakes | Lower East Side, NYC

[dailyfoodtoeat-blog]

#ThirstyThursday calls for these little treats which will have your stomach happy and you in a good place.

Two words: Boozy Cupcakes.

Prohibition Bakery will cater to any needs. Check our their selections here: http://ow.ly/CfZOy

[freeorganicallyme]

Finding out that my favorite bakery in the city has out done themselves again has definitely brightened my day :)

Not only does Prohibition have some of the best boozy cupcakes they now have fireball gumdrops!

Thursday can't come soon enough

[alisonanon-blog]

My film that screened in the 2013 NY Food Film Festival on Thursday night, about boozy cupcakes. 

[fairtrademarkus]

The Divine Saucy Pumpkin Cupcake Recipe

A saucy cupcake made with pumpkin ale and filled with a chocolate sage ganache using Divine's new Baking Bars by Prohibition Bakery via Divine Chocolate.

INGREDIENTS

106g roasted pumpkin puree

1 egg

¼ c canola oil

60g pumpkin ale or Octoberfest

125g white sugar

½ tsp vanilla

110g All Purpose flour

½ tsp baking soda

½ tsp salt

1/8 tsp ground cloves

1/8 tsp cinnamon

1/8 tsp freshly ground nutmeg

Filling:

1 c heavy cream

2 oz Divine bittersweet chocolate

2 oz Divine milk chocolate

1tbs unsalted butter

6 medium sage leaves

Frosting:

½ c ground pumpkin seeds, hulled and toasted

½ c high ratio shortening (trans fat free, if possible)

¼ c Octoberfest reduction

1lb confectioners sugar

Garnish:

fried sage

DIRECTIONS

For cake:

Preheat oven to 325 degrees

In a mixing bowl, beat pumpkin puree, egg, canola oil, beer, vanilla, and sugar until incorporated.

In another bowl, combine flour, baking soda, salt and spices. 

Slowly add dry goods to wet and beat until smooth. 

In greased or lined cupcake tins, fill 2/3 way. Bake for 10 minutes and let cool on a cooling rack. 

For filling:

Add sage leaves to the cream and simmer over medium heat until reduced by half. Take care not to boil over.

Meanwhile, chop the milk and bittersweet chocolate into chunks. When cream is heated, strain and pour over room temperature chocolate.

Let chocolate and cream mixture sit for a minute or so, and then whisk. When smooth, add the butter. 

Transfer to squeeze bottle and set aside. 

For Octoberfest reduction:

Place one bottle of your favorite fall beer in a saucepan, and boil until reduced to ¼ cup. 2. Liquid will be bitter and slightly syrupy. Take care not to let the beer boil over.

Transfer to a metal container and let cool in the fridge. Do not use until cool. 

For frosting:

With paddle attachment, whip together confectioners sugar and shortening until crumbly.

Add beer reduction and beat until smooth and fluffy. 

Add ground pumpkin seed and beat until incorporated. 

For garnish:

In a saucepan, heat 1qt of canola or peanut oil to 325 degrees.

While oil is heating, finely chop sage leaves into thin strips, about 1/4” wide. 

When oil has reached temperature (use an instant read thermometer to ensure proper temperature), carefully fry sage ribbons until bubbling nearly subsides, about 15 seconds. 

Remove with a slotted spoon or strainer and let cool on a paper towel lined try. Sprinkle with salt immediately after frying. 

Assembly:

When cupcakes are cool, use a small pastry tip to core out the center.

Fill the cupcakes with the sage ganache, using a squeeze bottle. 

Frost the cupcakes to your liking. Garnish with fried sage.

[prohibitionbakery]

A day in the life, Part II

Part two of Brooke's account of a typical day with Prohibition Bakery. Part one can be found here. 

---

3pm:

The intern has finally cleaned up the batter disaster, though I know I'll be finding car bomb remnants in the appliances for months. Leslie shows up and just shakes her head. She doesn't have to ask to know exactly what happened with the mixer.  Her hands are full of bakery supplies from errands she's been running all morning, and she seems a little bleary eyed after the industry event she attended the night before.  

I squeeze myself into the awkward bathroom with the porcelain throne right in the center of the 15sq foot room and put on my most appropriately tight dress and heels. I'm meeting with guys with last names like Kleinman and Dolan. They're 31 year old millionaires who made their money talking their way into managing hedge funds at 24, and now they own lofts in the West Village and throw dinner parties for 100 of their closest friends. They're members of actual boys clubs and find time to golf on Thursday afternoons. I wonder what it would take to become one of their wives and concern myself when I think about it a little too long.

But, they're interested in us. They think our product is sexy and say a former NBA player owes them a favor and they'll get him to tweet about Prohibition Bakery. I pack up some cupcakes and head out to find a taxi. Ari, the owner of Culture Fix next door, whistles as I walk by because he has only ever seen me in stained, cut off jeans, a wife beater, and a do-rag. The bartender winks at me through the window.

5pm:

I meet the power boys uptown for coffee. I tell them our story, smile frequently and look them dead in the eye. I take care to throw a curse word in there or two, and to make sure they see the burn I got on my forearm this morning. In a world run by men who either call us dumb little girls when we ask questions, or say we're bitches when we hold our ground and demand perfection, these guys need to understand that we will not be talked down to or walked over. I disagree with them at least once, but also acknowledge their ideas. I want them to need us, to need our brand, and to be the first ones to send a follow up email. I want them to think about me before they fall asleep and to talk about our company to their colleagues the next morning. I want to walk out of that meeting knowing that if our professional relationship doesn't pan out, in ten years we will be so successful that they will wish they had done something different.

6:30pm:

I'm pleased with the meeting, but it was only the first step. It'll be a while before that storyline develops in one way or another. We still need Snaps. I scour midtown for the damn pretzels and come up shorthanded, again. I hop back on a CitiBike, attempting not to flash anyone in the process now that I'm in a Power Meeting Dress, and head back down to the bakery. I need to pick up a few handles of booze and then Leslie and I going to grab a beer and catch up.

7pm:

I walk into the liquor store, and the guy behind the counter gives me a concerned stare. He's seen me in the liquor store three times this week. I've purchased a handle of vodka, gin, bourbon, and dark rum, as well as pear brandy liquor and triple sec, and now we need tequila. I've seen this look from the liquor store guys before. They think I'm a highly functional, but massive alcoholic. Back when we used to bake out of my apartment, I'd go to the liquor store in the evening and pick up whatever I needed for the night. The cashiers started to ask if I was ok, if I had already gone through that scotch from a few days ago. I finally had to bring them some cupcakes and show them our website to lessen their concerns. Now they bug me whenever I go in and don't bring cupcakes.

But, this is a new liquor store and they don't know me yet. I'm too tired to deal with it, so I make an off color comment about my ability to function while completely hammered. He doesn't appreciate it. Ah well, win some lose some.

8pm:

I help Leslie close up the bakery and we go to the local dive bar around the corner where the beer is flat and the tables are sticky. We go over our new PR agent (we love her), plans for new products (one day, we swear), and where we see ourselves in the next five years (queens of the world, obviously.) We've learned that friendship takes effort with the stress of business partnership, and that it's necesssary for us to actually hang out outside of business. Sometimes when you spend so much time together, you forget where you came from and why you did it all to begin with. We get so wrapped up in finances, customers, and personal issues that we forget that neither one of us could have gotten this far without the other. It is tense at times, of course, but it is also full of joy and silly laughter. We're like bookends—totally opposite, but when we line up right, it can be brilliant.

10:00pm:

I finally get home and pick up my little dog from Dolores, the elderly woman in my building who watches my dog when I'm gone. I make a late call to my mom while walking the dog. The few beers have me talking very fast and with gusto. I pass a homeless guy sleeping under an awning. For just a second, I am jealous of his sound, deep sleep. I immediately feel terrible about the thought and continue on my way.

I get home and get a call from Ari. There's a problem with their air conditioning and they have to get into the mechanical room, otherwise the whole building might explode or something. Since the mechanical room is in our space and they don't have a key, I get in a damn cab, (in my pink polka dotted pajamas) and go back to 9 Clinton Street. Ari says to me, “I was just going to call you. We got in through the hole in the wall. Everything's ok, you didn't need to come down.” Oh well, since I'm here and all, that's just fantastic information. I make him pay for my cabs. I should have at least put on real pants.

I return to my apartment and do a last check of the emails, update our facebook page and twitter, google “Prohibition Bakery” to see if there are any new Yelp! reviews, and realize that the business credit cards are due tomorrow. There goes our lunch money.

I remember that I have to get in early to handle the big order for tomorrow, and that they health department will be coming for an inspection soon. We have an interview tomorrow as well. I ignore a text from the current man of the moment. We're doing Olympic lifts at crossfit in the morning. The dog is snoring under the covers.

I still need Snaps.

[prohibitionbakery]

A Day In the Life of Prohibition Bakery: Part I

A bit ago, someone asked me to write down a day in my life for a project.  What started off as a shortlist of bullet points, quickly grew into an amusing account of a particularly colorful day.  It's too long to post all at once, and since we get around to blogging about once every six months, I figured I'd save part two for another day. So, here is the first half of a questionably single, possibly unhinged, 27 year old small business owner that spends the majority of her time covered in flour.  

--Brooke

---------------------------------------------------

7 AM:

This morning started like any other morning, or rather, like mornings have been beginning recently. My alarm goes off just a few hours after I set it, and when I look at my phone, I have about five text messages from ex boyfriends. They've just started popping up a lot lately, despite the whole “please never talk to me again” talk they got a year ago. This particular string of messages is from a former “gentleman” acquaintance in which over a year ago I went on three dates with, made a questionable drunk decision, and now he feels that it is appropriate to text me about the quality of my hind end. I received these messages around 4am, so I'm sure you can imagine their eloquence.

Anyway, it's damn early in the morning and I have to get my quality hind end to the gym because I own a bakery and I'd prefer to fit into my clothes and to be able to lift 50lb bags of flour without throwing my back out. I'm trying to build a corporation here, thanks, and I need to be able to run fast in heels because someone has to chase the money it takes to get there.

About a six months ago, I started doing crossfit. I needed an outlet for my rage and competitive instincts.  There was a time period where I would compulsively send Leslie links to other bakeries that were doing something even remotely similar to our concept. She would get these emails at 2 in the morning, in all caps that basically implied that THIS IS THE WORST THING EVER HOW DID WE NOT KNOW ABOUT THIS???? She pretty much stopped responding. I eventually stopped sending those emails once I realized I had literally stalked every single “alcohol infused” “boozy” “tipsy” “drunken” “wasted” and “intoxicating” cupcake that exists in this world. In case you were wondering, no one does it like us, 68 reviews on Yelp! can't be wrong!

So that's why I do crossfit, to save Leslie's and my sanity. I get to lift heavy things and drop them in a dramatic fashion, grunt, sweat, and talk about something other than cupcakes. I can also do many pull ups in a row, so I am fully prepared to kick some ass if someone tries to rob the bakery.

9am:

I usually power shower at crossfit and then power CitiBike down to the bakery. I recently ditched my MetroCard privileges for a CitiBike, in which I don the world's coolest helmet and lug a 45lb bike down Manhattan's streets for $95 a year. Yes, my life is routinely at stake. Yes, this morning I got followed for 10 blocks by a sketchy guy on a motorcycle. He rode right next to me and stared at me every time we hit a red light. When the light turned and I expected him to go on ahead, he would just putt putt right next to me until the next light. I finally just looked at him and screamed, “WHAT?” That scared him away. Another successful male encounter.

10am:

I need to find Snaps. Snaps are a little square pretzel made only by Snyder's of Hanover. We use them in our most popular cupcake, the Pretzels & Beer, and there's simply no other alternative. Over the course of a year, we believe that Prohibition Bakery has single handedly wiped out the Snap supply of NYC grocery stores and bodegas. We clear out the store every time we see them, because they're not available for cheap online. They're the one product that is cheaper at D'agostino's than it is on amazon.com. Except all three D'agostinos on the way to work are out of stock. The Duane Reades only carry Butter Snaps. Butter Snaps taste like fake movie popcorn and are not good in a cupcake. The bodegas leave me out of luck too.

10:30am:

Pause Cafe, our favorite caffeinated neighbor, is in sight. It will be the highlight of my morning. I need a giant coffee and a hug from Tim. I need to hear about Tim's rendezvous from the night before. There is always a story. He makes me chuckle. And ohmygod ohmygod, there's a little bulldog puppy outside the cafe. Let me bury my face in him.

11am:

Well holy crap, it's time to open the bakery. My intern is late, as usual. I've accepted the fact that she just shows up around noon. I have about 100 cupcakes on hand that were baked overnight, which should leave me time to leisurely bake throughout the morning. I get the early orders out to the delivery guys, and then the phone starts ringing. People placing orders. People changing orders. People asking for the millionth time, “do you make regular sized cupcakes?” No, no we don't.

Meanwhile, someone just walked in and bought 5 dozen cupcakes and I've got three orders going out in the afternoon, and a huge event tomorrow. Luckily the intern shows up, and I get her to work. I'm still fielding phone calls and emails just as the exterminator shows up. He's here for his bi monthly routine inspection. We're not having any problems, but it's something all food establishments in NYC have to do to keep the DOH happy. Everything is perfect, as expected, but he likes to stay and chat a while. I learn that he has a house in upstate NY and likes to wax all the hair off his body. The more you know, ding ding dong!

1pm:

It's hot. The shitty air conditioner can't compete with the oven spewing out 350 degree air for four hours. The thermometer is registering 96 degrees in the bakery. I've strapped some ice packs to my torso which helps significantly. I have the intern putting together a large batch of car bombs and she's using the Big Boy mixer for the first time. It's bigger and more powerful, made to handle commercial volume as opposed to the little 5 quart Kitchen Aids. She's doing well, no major issues. I turn around and then hear a WHOOOOSH and a squeal. I really don't want to know.

Just then, my produce and dairy guys show up with 10lbs of sour cream, 10lbs of yogurt, 30lbs of butter, a case of eggs, a 50lbs of flour, 50lbs of sugar, 50lbs of confectioners sugar, and a case of lemons. I turn around to see the intern covered in chocolate cake batter. There's batter on the walls, on the ceiling, on the floor. It's a cake massacre. I shake my head and go to my delivery guys, who have delivered the wrong kind of yogurt and 50 lemons, instead of 5. The phone starts ringing again.  Leslie will be here soon....

...stay tuned for Part II. In the meantime, here's the batter explosion: