As I weave my way down Georgetown’s M Street en route to Baked and Wired, I wonder what creative doodle will be scribbled in chalk outside the cupcake store today. Each time I visit the artsy coffee-and-cupcake shop, there is a new quote or drawing in chalk on a blackboard outside the door (previously I’ve seen drawings of Stewie Griffin and quotes from Shakespeare). So, as I cross the canal on Thomas Jefferson Street and draw nearer to the bakery, I find myself surprised not too see any fun, detailed drawing, but rather, a short quote. Though the chalkboard was unusually barren, on the sidewalk beside it is written in chalk Robert Frost’s poem “October,” in its entirety. I smile to myself, once again delighted by the creativity that embodies Baked and Wired, and walk inside.

I had been planning to ask the folks behind the cupcake counter for a quick word or two regarding their workplace, but as I enter the store mid-afternoon, there are at least 10 people in line. So instead of waiting around to bother the busy workers, I step over to the other side of the store, the coffee shop. Greeting me from behind the espresso machine is an employee named Liz, my first interviewee. She has been working at Baked and Wired for two months, and loves it. As we step aside the counter to continue our conversation,
Liz introduces me to a fellow employee named Maggie, a veteran Baked and Wired worker, who has been working there for two years, and also loves it. After chatting a little longer about the establishment we all love so much, I pose the big question: what is your favorite cupcake? Maggie pipes in immediately, telling me her favorite is carrot cake. Liz answers next, admitting that she is actually allergic to wheat, but she says, “We do have gluten free options, though." Hippie Crack, the cupcake that resides next to the cash register in a great glass jar, is essentially homemade granola, a conglomeration of oats, almonds, pecans, honey, etc.

As I agree with Maggie about the heavenliness of carrot cake cupcakes, yet another employee, Alex, comes in decked out in tattoos and neon attire. I am shocked to find out that the creative force behind all the chalky glory is Alex herself! I certainly wouldn’t have expected such a punky employee to be the one responsible for the Frost poem on the sidewalk. “Yeah, and I think I’m gonna do Sonnet 73 by Shakespeare when it gets a little colder” she adds cheerfully, “‘cuz it’s kind of about fall and winter.” And that’s the crazy, wonderful thing about Baked and Wired: it serves Hippie Crack cupcakes and hires the coolest, friendliest (albeit wildly dressed) people and allows them to make their workplace not only a place where they can serve scrumptious cupcakes and coffee but also a place where they can unleash their creative energy.

But for now, onto the fabulousness of the Baked and Wired building itself and the delicious treats it houses. As I thank Liz, Maggie, and Alex for their time and end our conversation, I step back over into the cupcake side of the store and see that the line has cleared out. Looking over the store, I take a moment to admire the artwork that adorns the brick walls: cartoon birds on woodblocks, a giant American flag hanging in the back room—a cozy room lit with spherical hanging lights and filled with comfy leather couches and small tables. Next, I notice beside the cash register a collage of photographs, each a photo of an employee wearing a Baked and Wired T-shirt (T-shirts made by none other than the ultra-cool brand American Apparel).

So after surveying the store’s comfy, welcoming interior, the artwork and the photographs, I finally get around to the ultimate goal, the pinnacle purpose of my visit: purchasing a cupcake. Faced with choices including Razmanian Devil (raspberry with vanilla icing), The Debbie Harry (peanut butter chocolate chip), Chocolate Doom and Red Velvet, I decide that the best way to go is to ask the woman behind the counter for advice. Her favorite cupcake, she remarks, would right now have to be Pumpkin, an October themed invention. So I ask for this flavor, in a bag and not a box (a decision I later regret because the boxes are hot pink and adorable), and prepare to finally leave the shop, happy with the success of my visit and eager to devour the undoubtedly delicious cupcake.

However, my departure is halted by the second double-take of the day: as I walk to the door, I notice on my left a giant cupcake, at least five times the size of a normal one. “Enter to win giant cupcake,” reads the sign on the raffle bowl next to the incredible, delectable feat, “winners announced around 3-ish.” I smile, scrawl my name and number on a slip and tuck it into the raffle bowl, and wonder if around 3-ish I’ll get that phone call. My adventure into this fabulous, unique, effortlessly-cool Georgetown establishment now over, I head back up M Street towards my home, and upon arrival at my kitchen table dig into the Pumpkin cupcake I’ve so eagerly awaited eating. And, as predicted, it’s delicious—tasting equally of sweetness and love.