Buckeye Cupcakes. Because I miss Ohio.

While in Ohio, my sister and I were having a few late night cocktails (shocker) and we decided, “hey, I’m in the mood for chocolate. Let’s bake some shit.” So, we made Buckeye Cupcakes. I’m sure some bastard out there has already made this recipe up, but at the time, we thought we were freaking brilliant. Vodka will do that to you. It’ll also make you do a split for your seventeen year old nephew and his cheerleader girlfriend, just to prove that you’re still young. Yup…I still got it.

Shit you’re gonna need:

1 box of Chocolate cake mix (Yup. I used the boxed shit. But listen here judgmental assholes of the world…that shit works and it’s fucking good. AND I knew I didn’t want to be sifting shit at 10pm at night. So there.)

Creamy Peanut butter (No, don’t use crunchy. Buckeyes don’t have crunchy. Deal with it.)

Chocolate frosting (Again, I used the premade shit. It was easy and these fuckers got into my pie hole quicker than you can say “Someone go make me another drink.”

You’re also gonna need the shit to make the cake with. Mine was eggs, water and oil.

Shit you’re gonna do:

Preheat your oven to 350. Line your muffin pan with cupcake liners. I also spray my liners with Kitchen KY because it’s easier for your three year old to peel back the paper when he’s ready to smear that shit all over his face. Seriously, I don’t think any actually gets into his mouth. It’s also easier for your sister to peel back when she’s been drinking. Just sayin’

Mix your batter up and fill the liners ¾ full. Seriously, I measure this. I like mine perfectly even. Why? Because I’m a fucking weirdo. Can we move on now? Good. So, once they’re full, dollop about a tablespoon of peanut butter in the middle of each cupcake. Don’t worry, it’s not gonna stick up when they’re done. The pb is heavier than the batter so the shit is gonna sink. And the batter is gonna rise around the pb.

Bake for about 18-20 minutes. When they’re cool, spread on your frosting and shove this into your face before you lose your buzz and regret eating two cupcakes…or five.