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13 min read
Easter in Australia is an autumn holiday. That one fact undoes most of the cupcake advice written for the northern hemisphere, where Easter arrives with the cold still in the ground and a buttercream rabbit will sit on a bench all day without moving. Ours lands at the tail of a Brisbane summer, in a week that can still reach thirty degrees with the humidity to match, and every decision about what goes on top of a cupcake has to be made with that in mind.
Cupcakes are still the right call. They are the one sweet thing at an Easter gathering that needs no knife, no plates worth washing and no argument about who cuts. They hand around, they travel in a box, and the ones nobody eats go home in the same box instead of drying out on a bench. They work as a gift, as the thing you bring to an event at your office, and as a single decorated cake for one person on a morning that does not warrant a whole one.
What follows is ten designs people ask for, and for each one the part that usually gets left out: what the thing actually does between the moment it is finished and the moment somebody eats it. That gap is where most Easter cupcakes are lost.

The base design everything else on this list is built from: a swirl of pale buttercream and two ears. Most people reach for marshmallows, and marshmallows are the right answer, but not straight out of the packet. A whole marshmallow is too heavy and rolls over on the swirl. Cut one in half on an angle and you get two ear shapes, each with a sticky cut face, and that sticky face is the whole trick. It is what holds the ear upright.
Cut them with scissors rather than a knife, and dip the blades in hot water between cuts or the marshmallow drags rather than cuts. If you are working ahead, dust the cut faces with a little icing sugar, because that surface will glue itself to anything it touches, including the next ear in the container.
Timing matters more than technique here. Marshmallow softens in humidity, and a Brisbane autumn afternoon is humid even when it is not especially hot. Ears put on at nine in the morning for a two o'clock party will be leaning by lunch. Pipe the frosting early if it helps you, then put the ears on last, once the cupcakes are where they are going to be eaten.
There is no standard way of making a bunny topper, which is why no two versions online look the same. Fondant is the other common choice and it holds a shape far better than marshmallow, but it wants to be made a day or two ahead and left in open air to dry hard. A fondant rabbit modelled the same morning is still soft, and it will sag at the neck by the time anyone sees it.

The same cupcake with sprinkles on it, which sounds like nothing and is the single cheapest way to make a tray look finished. Sprinkles cost almost nothing, every supermarket has them at Easter, and they do something plain buttercream cannot: they break up a flat colour so the swirl reads as a shape instead of a pale blob.
The trick is when you put them on. A standard buttercream forms a thin skin in about twenty minutes, and that crust is exactly what lets a decorated cupcake be boxed and carried at all. Sprinkles will not stick to a crusted swirl. So pipe a few, sprinkle those, pipe a few more. Get more than a minute or two behind and half of them end up on the bench.
The one that catches people out is colour bleed. Nonpareils, the tiny round ones, carry the thinnest coat of colour of any sprinkle, and left overnight on frosting they bleed a halo of it into the surface. On white buttercream that is very obvious the next morning. Jimmies, the little rods, and sanding sugar both hold their colour far longer. If the cupcakes are being finished the day before, use those and keep the nonpareils for something that gets eaten within a few hours.
Sprinkles also add crunch, and that is not a small thing on a cupcake, which is otherwise soft on top of soft. A tray that is all texture-free goes down less well than people expect.

This is the one that gets small children to eat something with a vegetable in it, and it is the design that works hardest at a party because there is something different on every cupcake. A rabbit, a carrot, an egg, a flower. Nobody feels they were handed the boring one, which is most of the argument at a table of five-year-olds.
Ready-made toppers turn up in the baking aisle of most supermarkets in the weeks before Easter, and there is no shame in using them. They are dry, they are hard, they will not slump, and they buy you an afternoon. If you would rather model your own, do it two days out, lay them on baking paper somewhere with air moving over them and then leave them alone.
Two practical notes. Anything with an ear, a horn or a neck wants support, and the usual support is a toothpick pushed up through it. Never send a cupcake out with a toothpick in it to a party where there are children under five, and if you are handing them round yourself, pull the toothpick as you plate them. A short piece of dry pasta or a sliver of wafer does the same job and can be eaten.
The second: real grated carrot in the cake makes the crumb heavier and wetter, which is good to eat and awkward to decorate. A heavy topper will sink slowly into a carrot cupcake in a way it never does into a vanilla one. Keep the toppers light, or put them on at the last minute and let the cake stay as it is.

Cream cheese frosting is the right partner for carrot cake and the least cooperative frosting on this list. It is worth knowing why before you commit a party to it.
Cream cheese frosting is soft by design. The cheese is doing the job butter does in a buttercream, but it carries far more water, so it tastes better and holds detail worse. Pipe a plain swirl or spread it with a palette knife and stop there. Petals, ruffles and anything with a sharp edge will round themselves off within the hour and you will have done the work for nothing.
It is also a fridge product rather than a shelf one. A cream cheese cupcake is comfortable for about two hours out of the fridge and begins to slide after that. If they are going outside on a warm afternoon, either bring them out of a cold box in batches or switch to a plain buttercream on top and put the cream cheese inside as a filling, where the cake insulates it.
Filling is underrated in general. A cupcake cored with the wide end of a piping nozzle and filled takes about ten seconds, doubles the frosting in the thing without doubling what sits on top of it, and gives you somewhere to hide a soft frosting on a hot day. It also makes a plain cupcake taste like it came from a shop rather than a packet mix.
Carrot cupcakes keep better than most, which is the other reason they suit Easter. The oil and the carrot hold moisture for three days where a plain butter cupcake is past its best on the second.

The face version. Two ears, two dark rounds for eyes, one larger round for the nose, and no attempt at anything else. It takes about fifteen seconds a cupcake and it is the design most likely to survive a child helping, which is worth more at Easter than a design that photographs well.
Chocolate is the part to think about. Chocolate buttons and chips bloom, which is the dusty grey film that appears when chocolate gets warm and then cools again, and that is exactly what happens to a tray of cupcakes carried across town in a car. Bloom is harmless and it makes the cupcake look old. If they have to travel any distance on a warm day, use a coloured fondant disc or a dark sprinkle for the eyes and keep the chocolate inside the cake.
The rabbit belongs to Easter through the eggs, in an old folk story about new life that attached itself to the holiday long before anyone thought to put either on a cake. As a design brief it has one real virtue: a five-year-old can identify it from the other side of a room, which is the only test a party cupcake has to pass.
You can go further if you want to. Whiskers, a modelled head sitting on the swirl, a tail on the back. Just remember that every extra piece is another thing to come off in transit. The elaborate version looks excellent on the bench at home and arrives looking like it has had a difficult morning.

Buttercream on its own, in several colours, with no toppers at all. Most of what leaves our kitchen looks like this, and the reasons go beyond taste.
Buttercream holds a piped shape, it is light enough not to compress the cake underneath it, and it stands up outdoors in a way fondant does not. It is comfortable up to about twenty-five degrees. Past that it stops being a shape and becomes a slope, so on a warm day the cupcakes stay in the shade or in a cold box until people are actually ready to eat them.
Colour is where the home version usually goes wrong. Use gel colour rather than the liquid bottles from the supermarket shelf, because liquid colour is water, and enough of it to reach a strong shade will loosen the buttercream until it will not hold a peak. Then mix your pastels lighter than you want them, because gel deepens for an hour or two after it goes in. A tray that looked like pale sky when it was piped can be a definite blue by the time it is served.
Icing wins over fondant on a cupcake for one plain reason: people eat it. Fondant on a cupcake is mostly peeled off and left on the plate, and a tray that comes back with every top removed tells you that without needing a survey.
One number worth carrying around: a tall swirl takes roughly fifty grams of buttercream, so two dozen cupcakes need a bit over a kilo. Most home recipes make about half of that, which is why the last four cupcakes in a batch so often get a thin scrape and a sprinkle.

Easter is not only rabbits. Cows, pigs, sheep and chickens all appear on cupcakes at this time of year, usually for a child's birthday that happens to fall in the same fortnight, and the farm set has one clear advantage over the rabbit set: the shapes are simpler. A pig is a pink circle, two triangles and a snout. A chicken is a body, a beak and a comb.
The sheep is the one worth stealing. Sheep are piped rather than modelled: a small round nozzle, dozens of little dots over the whole top, and a dark oval for the face. It takes a minute a cupcake, it needs no modelling skill whatsoever, and it holds up better in a box than a moulded animal because there is nothing sticking out to be knocked off.
Keep the cast small. Four animals across a dozen cupcakes reads as a farm. Nine animals reads as whatever was left in the cupboard. Repeat three or four designs across the tray and the whole thing looks deliberate rather than improvised.
The thing to expect is that children want the animal, not the cake. The topper gets eaten and about half the cupcake gets abandoned, which is the real argument for a smaller cupcake at a party full of small children rather than a larger one. Two small ones also solve the problem of a child who wants the pig and the sheep.

Flowers suit Easter here better than they suit it almost anywhere else, once you stop copying the northern version. Our Easter is autumn, so a warm palette on a tray of small piped flowers is closer to what is actually happening outside than the pale spring green of a magazine printed in another hemisphere.
Piped flowers need a stiffer buttercream than a swirl does. It is the same batch with more icing sugar beaten into a portion of it, and the two are not interchangeable: a swirl mix will not hold a petal edge, and a petal mix piped as a swirl looks dry and cracks at the top. Split the batch and work from two bowls rather than trying to find a compromise that does both jobs badly.
The technique that saves the day is piping the flowers separately onto a tray lined with baking paper and putting them in the freezer for ten or fifteen minutes. They lift off firm, they can be made a day ahead, and they can be placed exactly where you want them instead of being piped in position with a nozzle blocking your view of the cupcake.
Flower cupcakes are also the design people are most reluctant to eat, which is a real effect rather than a compliment. On a table being picked at over an hour, they go last. If you would rather they got eaten, pipe the flowers small and put several on each cupcake instead of building one showpiece per cake.

Here is where we will be unhelpful. A boiled or fried quail egg sitting on a sweet cupcake is a photograph rather than a food, and it is the one idea on this list we would talk you out of. What people usually mean when they ask for it is a small speckled egg in a nest of frosting, and that version is worth doing properly.
Small chocolate eggs come with a painted candy shell, and that shell runs. Sitting on damp buttercream in a warm room, the colour bleeds into the frosting underneath within a few hours, so lifting an egg off leaves a smear where it sat. Put the eggs on as late as you can. If the cupcakes have to be finished the day before, sit each egg on a fleck of white chocolate or a small piece of wafer rather than straight onto the icing.
The nest is worth the extra minute. Pipe a ring instead of a mound, drag a fork around the outside to rough it up, and drop two or three eggs into the middle. It reads immediately as Easter, it needs no modelling at all, and the flat centre means the eggs do not roll off the moment the box tilts in the car.
If you genuinely want an egg on the plate for an Easter brunch, make it savoury and separate: a small cheese and herb muffin with half a quail egg on top, served within a couple of hours. Boiled eggs do not hold on a table, and after two hours out they are the first thing guests quietly avoid.

Fondant rabbits are the shop version, and fondant gets used for them because it does something nothing else on this list does. It holds a shape indefinitely, it takes colour cleanly, and it can be made well in advance. A tray of fondant rabbits modelled on Tuesday will be the same shape on Saturday, which is the only way a decorated order gets out the door on a busy week.
The rule with fondant is that it hates the fridge. Cold makes it sweat, and a fondant topper taken out into a warm Brisbane afternoon beads with moisture within minutes, at which point the colours run into each other and the surface goes tacky. Keep the toppers in a cardboard box at room temperature, not in a sealed plastic container and never in the fridge, and put them on the cupcakes at the very end.
Since both words are on this list: a rabbit is the animal and a bunny is a young one, and in decorating the difference is proportion rather than species. A bunny topper has a big head, short ears and a small body. A rabbit has long ears and long legs. If yours keeps coming out looking like a rabbit when you wanted a bunny, make the head bigger and the ears shorter and it will fix itself.
One more thing about fondant and cupcakes generally, because it is genuinely useful. A disc of fondant laid flat over the top seals the cake, and the cupcake underneath stays soft a day longer than an uncovered one. That is worth knowing if the order has to be finished a day ahead, as long as everyone accepts that a fair number of those discs will be peeled off and left on the plate.
A few things apply whichever of the ten you pick, and they matter more than the design does.
Fill the cases two-thirds and no further. A case filled to the rim mushrooms over the edge in the oven and leaves you with a domed top and nowhere flat to decorate, which is the most common reason a home batch turns out harder to finish than it looked in the recipe.
Let them go completely cold before anything goes on top. A cupcake that feels cool on the crown can still be warm at the base, and frosting piped onto a warm cupcake slides off it an hour later, usually somewhere between the kitchen and the party.
Do not refrigerate the finished cupcakes unless there is dairy in the frosting that demands it. Cake stales fastest at fridge temperature, which is the opposite of what almost everyone assumes, and a cupcake dries out faster than a whole cake anyway because so much more of it is surface. Baked the day they are eaten is best. The day before is the honest limit.
Transport is where most of them are lost. Cupcakes want a flat floor, which means the boot rather than a seat, and a shallow box, ideally one with individual holes. A tall swirl will touch the lid of a standard cake box, so either pipe lower or find a taller box before the morning of. Two dozen cupcakes sliding into one corner on a roundabout is the story we hear every Easter, and there is nothing to be done about it once it has happened.
For numbers, count one a head plus about a fifth again if cupcakes are the only sweet thing, and one a head flat if there is a cake as well. Children take one, eat the topper and leave the rest, so small cupcakes are better value than large at a party full of them.
If you would rather have the afternoon back, that is what we are for. Everything is made by hand in our Fortitude Valley kitchen, and decorated cakes and cupcakes need two to three business days, so Easter cupcakes want to be ordered the week before rather than the Thursday of it. Orders placed by 4pm go out for next-day delivery where the item allows it, there is no last-minute surcharge, delivery starts at $19 on orders over $150 across more than fifty Brisbane suburbs, Saturday is the same rate as a weekday, and pick-up is from 7am at 159 Knapp St, Fortitude Valley.
If your office or your family is in the Brisbane CBD or the suburbs around it, you can order cupcakes here. Tell us on the order if a topper has to come off for small children, or if a few need to be dairy free or gluten free, and it reaches the person who is actually decorating them rather than sitting in an inbox.
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