Tres Leches Cupcakes
Page 1
© 2012 Josi S. Kilpack.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Shadow Mountain®. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of Shadow Mountain.
To Nancy and Jenny for their friendship, new and old. How it has blessed me.
Tres Leches Cupcakes recipes
Tres Leches Cupcakes
Dulce de Leche Bars
Tostadas Compuestas
Breakfast Burritos
Caro’s Cinco de Mayo Chicken Salad
Crock-Pot Posole
Mexican Hot Chocolate
Dulce de Leche Frosting
Green Chile Stew
Sopapillas
Biscochitos
Meringue Frosting for Tres Leches Cupcakes
Download a free PDF of all the recipes in this book at josiskilpack.com or shadowmountain.com
Also by Josi Kilpack:
Lemon Tart
English Trifle
Devil’s Food Cake
Key Lime Pie
Blackberry Crumble
Pumpkin Roll
Banana Split
Baked Alaska (coming Spring 2013)
Her Good Name
Sheep’s Clothing
Unsung Lullaby
Daisy
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Acknowledgments
Baked Alaska
Chapter 1
About the Author
Prologue
It was the cold that woke her.
Sadie reached out to pull the plush, soft-as-kitten’s-fur blanket to her chin and settle back in for a couple more hours of sleep; the fire she lit in the evenings always burned out in the early-morning hours, inviting the autumn chill back in. But instead of finding the comforting softness she expected, her hand brushed across rough stone and rubbed gritty sand beneath her fingers. A breeze passed over her, rippling the silky fabric of her blouse that afforded no protection from the cold night air.
She wasn’t in her apartment. Why not?
Then she began to remember.
Her body tensed as equal amounts of confusion and memory swirled together, like two children trying to talk over each other as they both explained their version of events. From the bits and pieces of her recollections, she knew she was in the New Mexican desert. She’d been at the Balloon Fiesta, the annual hot air balloon festival in Albuquerque. She had been selling cupcakes there—Lois’s tres leches cupcakes to be exact—but then . . . then something had happened. Someone had brought her here, far away from the tourists and balloonists and anyone else whom she could call to for help.
The Cowboy.
But he’d been sent by someone else. Langley? Standage? She wasn’t sure. But she knew the Cowboy had brought her here to kill her. He said she’d crossed a line.
What line?
Why couldn’t she remember?
She must have made a run for it. How had she gotten away? They’d come after her—the Cowboy and the man she didn’t know. And then . . . then . . .
What had happened then?
Sadie attempted to sit up, but her head spun, convincing her to lie still again and catch her breath. Then she rolled to her side and used a large rock, gray against the blackness behind it, to pull herself up, though her joints and muscles screamed in protest. As her eyes traveled up the side of the hill above her, she could make out the scraggly silhouette of brush against washed-out desert dirt. Had she fallen? She looked toward the bottom and saw that the hill she was on continued for several more yards, ending in an arroyo. She’d come to a stop at a ledge of sorts near the middle of the incline. Perhaps the rock she’d used to help her sit up had stopped her descent. None too gently, it seemed.
Once sitting, she put a hand to her throbbing forehead and gasped in pain at her own touch. She pulled her hand back. Even in the minimal light of the crescent moon, she could see the contrast between her pale skin and the dark stain on her fingers. Knowing the stain was blood made Sadie’s throat tighten and her hand shake from something other than the cold.
Where was she? What would happen next?
Fear began to take over. It was hard to breathe, and her body seemed to curl in upon itself involuntarily though her back and hip protested. Everything hurt. What had happened? How long had she been here?
“She went this way,” a voice said from somewhere above her, the words carrying on the wind. Another voice answered the first, but Sadie couldn’t make out what was said. She didn’t need to. What she needed to do was hide. Quick. Though she couldn’t remember everything, she knew that if they found her—whoever they were—she’d never make it back to Santa Fe.
Sadie knew firsthand how well the desert could hide a body.
Tres Leches Cupcakes Cupcakes 11/2 cup all-purpose flour 2 tablespoons cornstarch
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
5 eggs
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup butter, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla extract Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix flour, cornstarch, baking powder, and salt in a small bowl. Set aside. In a separate bowl, beat butter for 1 minute until very smooth. Add sugar and mix well. Add eggs one at a time, beating until yellow and frothy. Add vanilla. Add flour mixture in three batches and beat an additional minute. Fill cupcake liners halfway. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, or until tops are lightly browned and an inserted toothpick comes out clean. Do not overbake. Cool completely.
Makes approximately 24 cupcakes.
Glaze 1 (5-ounce) can evaporated milk (or half of a 12-ounce can) 1 (11-ounce) can of sweetened condensed milk 1 cup cream, coconut milk, half and half, OR whole milk Mix milks together. When cupcakes are cool, carefully slice off the top crust to expose the sponge cake. Drizzle the milk mixture one spoonful at a time over the cupcakes, allowing the cake to soak up the milk in between additions. (Cupcakes typically hold between 1 and 2 tablespoons of glaze.) Once milk seems to be pooling at the top of the sponge cake, cover the cupcakes and refrigerate for at least six hours.
Note: An easy way to add glaze is to use a medicinal syringe. (You can find them in the pharmacy section of your local grocery store.) Instead of slicing off the tops of the cupcakes, simply inject the milk one syringeful at a time.
Cinnamon Buttercream Frosting 1 cup butter, softened
3½ cups powdered sugar
3 teaspoons vanilla
1 to 1½ teaspoons cinnamon ½ teaspoon nutmeg
Dash of salt
Milk, as needed
In a mixing bowl, whip butter until smooth. Add
2 cups of powdered sugar and mix well, scraping the sides of the bowl as needed. Add vanilla and mix well. Add remaining powdered sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Mix; add milk as needed to create a smooth, but thick frosting. Pipe frosting onto cupcakes using a 1A tip, or spread frosting over cupcakes with a butterknife or spatula.
Chapter 1
Ten Days Earlier
I’ve got a visual through the sliding glass door of the apartment,” said Caro’s voice through the static of the walkie-talkie. “Copy, Churrochomper?”
“Copy, Dunebuster,” Sadie said while depressing the button on her hand unit. “Can you identify the occupants?”
“Hold on.” Caro was an exercise buff, an excellent cook, the wife of an engineer, and trying to adjust to her empty-nest lifestyle. She was also a cousin to Pete Cunningham, Sadie’s boyfriend. Sadie had known all those things about Caro when she moved into Caro’s mother-in-law apartment in Santa Fe six weeks ago. Sadie had also expected she and Caro would get along well. She hadn’t expected Caro would also be a wannabe CIA operative. But if Sadie had learned anything over the last couple of years, it was that circumstances brought out parts of people’s personalities even they didn’t know existed.
“Two males,” Caro continued, “mid-twenties, eating Cheetos and . . . wait . . . not Cheetos. Stand by, Churrochomper.”
“Ten-four, Dunebuster.” Sadie could see Caro from her vantage point on an obliging rock beside a cypress tree, but just barely—Caro’s black hoodie and yoga pants blended well with the darkened landscape.
It hadn’t taken long for Sadie to settle into New Mexico. She had needed to stay under the radar due to an unresolved threat that had been haunting her after a near-deadly trip to Boston almost a year ago, and Santa Fe was turning out to be the perfect place to hide. What made it even better was that Pete had lined up an opportunity for Sadie to act as an undercover informant for the Bureau of Land Management. Caro was helping her with the paperwork portion of the job tonight.
“Cheese doodles,” Caro said over the walkie-talkie. “I repeat, the subjects are eating cheese doodles.”
That wasn’t really the type of information Sadie needed to collect, but she could remember her own naïve overexcitement on her first few cases so she didn’t bother saying anything to Caro about observing insignificant details.
“Can you confirm subject sixteen?” Sadie asked while looking at the clipboard in her hand and finding number sixteen on the list. She tapped the point of her pen over the name Kyle Langley. His address was apartment number 28 at the Colonial Hills complex.
“Affirmative,” Caro replied. “Definitely sixteen. Lizard tattoo on right forearm is in view.”
Sadie smiled to herself and wrote a big, fat check mark next to Kyle’s name. “And the other subject?”
“Might be subject nineteen. Can’t confirm . . . wait . . . what’s his hat preference?”
“Braves,” Sadie said, scanning down to number nineteen on the list. “Atlanta Braves.”
“Confirmed. Yes, I do believe it’s subject nineteen. I’ve taken photos for further verification.”
“Perfect,” Sadie said into the speaker before checking Cesar Montoya off the list as well. Seventeen of the twenty-six names on the list were checked off now, meaning she was closer than ever to completing her assignment.
“I’m moving away from the lookout point,” Caro said. “Repeat, I’m moving away from the lookout point and will rendezvous at predetermined location in oh-three minutes. Dunebuster over and out.”
“Churrochomper over and out,” Sadie said. She got up from where she’d been sitting, but remained in a crouch as she headed back down the embankment that acted as a natural barrier between the elementary school parking lot where they’d left Caro’s car and the apartment complex they were staking out.
It really should have been Sadie who made the visual verifications—she was the official informant after all—but Caro liked the trench work so much that Sadie couldn’t tell her no. It was fun to share the experience with someone else and, seeing as how this was Sadie’s first foray back into the world of private investigating, having Caro at her side made all the difference in keeping Sadie’s anxiety at bay. Sadie wasn’t the woman she used to be before Boston, but she was making progress. Caro was helping more than she knew. She made Sadie feel safe, and needed—two things that were very important to Sadie right now.
Sadie reached Caro’s royal blue Neon—a terrible car for investigative work; it was so conspicuous—several seconds before Caro appeared over the berm and used the button on the key fob to unlock the doors. Once Caro reached the driver’s side door, they both entered the vehicle on their respective sides, pulled the doors closed in tandem, and buckled their seat belts as though following a well-rehearsed choreography.
Caro pushed back the hood of her sweatshirt, then started the engine and smoothly reversed out of the space before exiting the parking lot altogether. She sat up straight with both hands on the steering wheel, pulled her shoulders up to her ears, and squealed. “That was so fun! Where to next?”
“We’re done for the night,” Sadie said with a laugh at Caro’s enthusiasm.
Caro’s shoulders slumped, and she leaned back against the seat with a frown. “Really? Already?”
“I’ll have more work tomorrow night,” Sadie said. “Can I see the camera?”
Caro, pouting slightly, reached into the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie and handed over Sadie’s compact design DSLR camera with 12x stabilized zoom, 1/2000 shutter speed, and face-recognition technology. Sadie compared the pictures on the camera to the pictures she’d taken with her cell phone on the sly at the dig site. The men were, in fact, subjects sixteen and nineteen.
“Why can’t we just track down the whole list right now?” Caro asked. She used her fingers to smooth her chin-length bob. Caro’s mother was a Mexican immigrant who came to the US in the 1950s with her family to work and fell in love with a gringo—Pete’s uncle, Wynn. Caro had inherited her mother’s features: light brown skin, dark eyes, envious curves. She took pride in both cultures, never having chosen one above the other in order to define who she was. “I’m not tired,” Caro assured her. “And we’re on a roll. This was the quickest verification we’ve done yet.”
“That’s because Mr. Langley owns his own apartment.” A lot of the other crew members were somewhat nomadic, living with friends and family while they moved around to different job sites. That was likely why subject nineteen was there; he was probably sleeping on the couch. “Regardless of that, I don’t have photos of the rest of the people on the list yet.” Sadie lifted her phone as a visual reminder of her process. “I have to talk to the subjects first, then get their photo, then confirm their address, and then get additional photos, if possible.”
Caro continued pouting, and Sadie couldn’t help but laugh again. “What did you ever do for fun before I got here?”
“I can’t even remember,” Caro said, looking thoughtful. “Watched TV mostly, I guess, and nagged my husband to take me places. But playing private investigator is so much better.”
“You’re not playing at anything,” Sadie said with a shake of her head. “You’re doing it, for real.”
“It’s so exciting,” Caro said with a contented sigh. “Have I convinced you yet to stay in Santa Fe forever so we can open up a PI business together?”
“You know I can’t do that,” Sadie said, ignoring the pang of envy she felt for Caro’s normal life. “But you ought to look into it for yourself. You’re a natural.”
Sadie was a natural too, but living underground like she was meant she couldn’t own a business. The car she’d been driving since coming to New Mexico was even in Caro’s name, though Sadie paid the lease payment. Officially, Sadie lived . . . nowhere, and it would stay that way until Pete felt certain it was safe for Sadie to return to Garrison, Colorado. He was tracking the person who made the threat on Sadie’s life, but he had yet to uncover an actual lead that led to an
actual arrest. Until he did, he wanted Sadie far away from anywhere that could put her in danger of being attacked again—which meant anywhere she’d be expected to go.
After nearly a year of hiding, and a debilitating battle with anxiety and depression, however, Sadie was beginning to feel that it wasn’t worth the toll it took on her and her family and friends. She missed her hometown and her friends and the purpose she’d once had. But Pete didn’t feel she was safe and, although the situation was far from ideal, Sadie trusted his judgment more than her own. And Caro was wonderful. That helped immensely.
“Maybe I will start my own company,” Caro said with a jaunty shake of her shoulders. “It’s got to be more interesting than working in a dental office, I’m sure. Then I’ll hire you under your other name, Sarah.” She gave Sadie a sidelong look, and Sadie rolled her eyes at Caro’s reference to the name Pete had chosen for her: Sarah Worthlin. Sarah was Sadie’s legal first name—Sadie was short for Sarah Diane—and Pete felt it would make it more natural for Sadie to answer to a name already familiar to her. Caro and her husband, Rex, called her Sadie though, which Sadie preferred.